


I'm so much older than I can take

by siempreniall



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, a complete inability to communicate effectively, a liiiiiittle bit of commitment issues from nicholas because of course, meticulously-planned not-dates, nick being a nervous wreck, nights locked away in hotel rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:39:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siempreniall/pseuds/siempreniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry stares Nick down, his face caught half between a smile and a grimace. Which Nick thinks is kind of insulting, actually, if you think about it. He’s about to try and push Harry off the sofa when he speaks up.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Oh my God, you’ve got a crush on Niall?”</i></p><p>  <i>“Harry, I’m 29 years old, I do not get crushes. I merely think his hands are my favorite size of hands and his lips are my favorite color of lips and I’d quite like to see either of them wrapped around my cock, is all,”</i></p><p>**</p><p>Or: Niall likes space, Nick likes to feel sorry for himself, and they both like each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm so much older than I can take

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely-based on canon, and the tour schedule is kind of a mess because I wrote this over, like, a year so it's kinda the WWA tour and kinda just my own creation. Also, pretend this exists in a universe where One Direction aren't rich fucks that fly back to the UK between every Europe date, please. Also one where Nick and Niall are in love, which could be this one. We just don't know.

It’s strange that Nick has one of the most life-shattering revelations of his life sidestage at Wembley. Not like the “I don’t quite like girls” revelation of many years earlier, but something a little similar.

It is fitting that it’s Harry fault, though. Harry who had given him the ticket to their first show in London, who had given him clearance to stand in the spot he’s standing in at the moment, Harry who hadn’t paid him a bit of attention all night. Because most of this extraordinary things of the past three years of his life have been thanks to Harry, for better or for worse.

So now Harry is half way across stage forgetting to sing a line of a song he wrote himself because he’s too busy waving to a fan, and Niall’s planted himself at the back of the stage. He’s simultaneously rocking out with the bass player (Rocky, or something similarly nature) and making odd faces at Nick. Which normally Nick would find absolutely annoying, but for some reason since they’re attached to Niall, the bugged out eyes and stuck out tongue are just incredibly endearing.

And that’s kinda fucked up in a way, too, considering Nick hasn’t seen Niall in quite a few months, and in that time he’s gotten significantly more _man_. A little less teenage heartthrob and a little more capital ‘H’ Hunk. Which is probably too close to a Fall Out Boy for Nick to properly feel his age. Niall’s hair’s styled nicely in a small quiff on the top of his head and a sizable patch of chest hair peeks out the top of his vest. Nick’d like to run his hands through both of them. His arms seem to have gotten bigger, too, only enhanced by how strong and lithe his fingers look as they play song after song on the guitar. Nick wonders idly how they’d feel around his dick, and it’s at that exact moment that his heart thuds into his stomach as he realizes that he’s somehow found himself _imagining_ _Niall Horan’s hands around his dick_.

Niall with the long-gone braces and the smile that won’t quit. With a laugh that echoes around stadiums like a song of its own and eyes that sparkle across the entire distance of the stage. Nick’s not usually one to wax poetic about love interests, but Nick’s also not usually one to get distracted by hyper little popstars. Tonight’s not the usual, though.

**

Nick vows to take this new discovery to his grave, which obviously means he tells Harry about it not even three days later.

“Niall’s looking good in’t he?” he says, offhandedly, after too much red wine and too many spoonfuls of ice cream in the kitchen of his flat.

“You mean, like, well? Like his knee’s all healed?”

“No, ‘course not. Like he’s proper fit ‘n all now, yeah?”

Harry stares Nick down, his face caught half between a smile and a grimace. Which Nick thinks is kind of insulting, actually, if you think about it. He’s about to try and push Harry off the sofa when he speaks up.

“Oh my God, you’ve got a crush on Niall?”

“Harry, I’m 29 years old, I do not get _crushes_. I merely think his hands are my favorite size of hands and his lips are my favorite color of lips and I’d quite like to see either of them wrapped around my cock, is all,”

And Nick thinks that sounds wholly understandable, honestly.

“Okay, whatever, fucking words, but where the hell did this come from?”

Nick sighs because honestly, shouldn’t it be obvious? “I dunno, have you seen him lately? Got all bulked up and did his hair up right. Looks like a big adult now,”

Harry doesn’t respond for, like, three whole seconds so Nick takes that as a sign to continue.

“And he’s funny! Just brightens up your whole day just by being Niall, you know?”

“Yes, I’ve been his best mate for going on four years now. _I know_. But… he’s not your type!”

“Please, Harold, what’s my ‘type’? Old, crotchety men? Guys with beards? Niall’s probably growing a beard right now! He’s just taking his good ol’ time,”

Harry shrugs and swishes around his half-drunk glass of wine. He seems to have lost all interest in it.

“I dunno, just not Niall I guess. You’ve never shown much interest in him before,”

“Well he’s just decided to look my ‘type’, if you will. And, I don’t know, it’s nothing serious, Harry. I’m not sitting here pining over him all day long. I’m just admitting that he’s fit and would probably be fun in bed and there’s nothing more to it, now is there?”

Harry’s quiet for a second and Nick thinks maybe he’s won and Harry’ll shut up now. But things are never quite that simple, especially when Harry’s involved.

“But what if there’s more to it,” he says lowly.

“Jesus Christ, what do you mean?”

“Have you ever told Niall about how you feel?”

“No!” Nick nearly screams, “God, no! I’ve had maybe three meaningful conversations in my life with him, and one of them was about my diary for fuck’s sake,”

“It’s just, listen-”

“As much as I appreciate your playing matchmaker, really appreciate it,” Nick interrupts, “I don’t need to tell everyone I find attractive that I think so,”

“Nick, shut up!” Harry suddenly says loudly and forcefully and very not Harry-like, “Maybe… Niall feels the same way you do?”

“Ah, yes. Young Master Horan getting off to the thought of me in my swimmies. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?”

“Stop treating it like a joke! And, fuck, I really shouldn’t even be saying this right now,”

And it takes a few moments for the words to start making sense in Nick’s head, since it’s clouded by wine and thoughts of Niall wanking and all that. But when it finally drops, it hits him like a punch in the gut.

“Oh my God!” he screams and sloshes his wine about until it spills over his trackies, “You’re not taking the piss outta me?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t lie about this,”

“Holy shit!” Nick yells again as he sets his wine down to minimize future splashing, “But he’s-! He’s not-! He doesn’t like men!”

“How would you know? You’ve only had three meaningful conversations with him,”

“Christ,” Nick falls forward until his face is hidden in his hands, “When did that happen?”

“I dunno,” Harry shrugs and his voice goes low, “A few months ago I think? We were all at that party together and you two happened to go to the loo at the same time and I guess he saw… it,”

“You’re twenty years old, you can say penis,”

“Fine, whatever. He saw your penis and I personally don’t get the big deal but… it was kinda the big moment for him, you know? Like the first time he really thought about a guy sexually,”

“You’re telling me Niall’s never seen a dick before?”

“Well, I’m assuming he has! Like we’ve all seen each other’s when changing or skinny dipping or whatever, but we’re basically like brothers; there’s nothing there but platonic love. I guess he finds you charming, though, and good looking. And then with the addition of a pretty dick everything just fell into place,”

Nick’s sobered up incredibly fast in the thirty seconds since Harry told him, and he looks at him like a deer in headlights. He knows he should be happy because now the chances of him actually acting on his wank bank fantasies have increased tenfold, but in order for that to happen he’d need to actually… you know… ask Niall.

“I can’t do it,” he says plainly, “I can’t actually do anything with this! Niall’s untouchable, he can’t be seen with me! And just because he thinks I’m fit doesn’t mean he actually wants to fuck around,”

“Yes it does,” Harry replies as he picks up Nick’s phone.

“He’s just a kid! Not really, but. We can exist in the same universe in a mutual attraction and not say anything to each other. Right?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him,” Harry says, throwing Nick’s phone on his lap. He looks down to see that he’s currently calling Niall’s number. And he’d like to kill Harry at that very moment, but then Niall actually answers.

“Grimmy!” he says through the phone, holding onto the ‘y’ and not suspicious at all that Nick’s calling him for maybe the second time ever, “Whatcha doing today?”

“Hey. Niall. Just seeing how you’re doing?” Nick replies, about as awkwardly as he could get. Harry just sighs and hits Nick’s shoulder.

“Doin’ pretty good. Are you looking for Harry or summat?”

Harry starts mouthing “ask him out” so Nick decides to stop beating around the bush and just do it already.

“Um, no, just calling for you. I wanted to know if you’d want to get together sometime this week?” Nick closes his eyes and wills himself to drop dead on the spot.

“Oh, really? That’s interesting!” _Fuck_. “But yeah, that’d be the craic! When do you have time?”

Harry jumps off the couch and starts pumping his arms as if he’s just won the World Cup. Nick throws a pillow at him and hits him satisfactorily in the face.

“Is Wednesday evening alright?”

“Yeah, sounds great! Where do you wanna meet?”

“Well, um. How’s my place?”

There’s a long pause and Nick’s about to try and pass it off as a joke before Niall chimes back in.

“That’d work! You gonna cook something for me? I need food, I’m a growing boy!”

Nick groans because he doesn’t need to be reminded.

“Yeah, I could do that,”

“That’s a date then?” Niall laughs and Nick tries to join in but it sounds more like he’s stuttering.

“See you then, bud,”

Niall says bye too then hangs up while Nick flings himself across the couch and lets out a wail.

“See, you can do it!” Harry cheers, drumming across Nick’s ass like a bongo.

And it’s at these times that Nick reminds himself that Harry can sometimes change his life _for the worse._

**

The date gets changed to Tuesday and the dinner gets changed to drinks and by the time 8:30 rolls around Nick is looking through his medicine cabinet for an Alka-Seltzer. It’s more likely that the rumbling in his tummy is due more to nerves than gas, but you can never be too sure. Niall arrives at exactly 8:37, and Nick spends the five minutes leading up to it sitting on the couch with his hands balled into fists on his knees.

But when he opens the door, it’s just Niall standing there. Niall in a soft white shirt and surprisingly skinny, grey jeans. Niall with the same laugh he’s had since stepping onto the X Factor stage, Niall who brings Nick into a hug immediately, Niall who is never intimidating.

“So, I’ve taken you’re not much of a wine drinker?” Nick asks as they walk through his flat. Niall barks out a laugh in reply.

“Nooooo, I’d much rather a nice, cold beer if you have one,”

And Nick does have one, because he stood in an imported beer shop the night before for twenty minutes before calling Harry, who had told him, “Just go to Tesco’s and buy a 15-pack of Carlsberg for £12, you prick,” And he picked up some Fosters and Guinness too, just so it would appear that Nick wasn’t tailoring this entire night to Niall’s tastes. He’s about to direct Niall to the living room when Pig comes skittering into the kitchen and all direction is gone.

“Oh my God!” Niall yells, thrusting his beer back into Nick’s hands, “I forgot you had a dog!”

He kneels down to greet Pig and the both of them seem to have a new best friend within ten seconds. She’s already rolling over for Niall to pet her tummy before Nick can place their drinks on the counter and get down on the floor too. He’s happy that Pig likes Niall, though, because he imagines she’s a great judge of character. Though at the same time he doesn’t think she could ever turn down a tummy rub.

“What’s her name?” Niall asks when she finally rights herself and he starts scratching behind her ear.

“Pig,”

“I like it,” Niall smiles genuinely. And suddenly he’s Nick’s favorite member of One Direction because he’s the only one to have met Pig and not make fun of her name.

“Should we start drinking, then?” Nick asks, because he knows that petting Pig can get rather addictive, “My couch’s quite comfy,”

Niall turns to him and smiles wide, “You have a garden?”

“Yeah, I do. Wanna sit out there?”

“It’s a gorgeous night! And I love gardens,”

And, well, that’s enough of an explanation for Nick to grab a few of the Carlsbergs and his bottle of pinot noir and lead Niall outside. It’s not the best garden in the world, but considering he lives in bloody Primrose Hill, where the average outdoor space is equivalent to nothing, he assumes it could be worse. Niall doesn’t seem to mind one bit as he plops himself in the middle of the grass and rests his bottle between his legs. Nick sits himself next to him, legs crossed and utterly feeling like he’s fifteen again and sitting with Bobby McKee in his parents’ garden back in Oldham. Where he was hiding his new discoveries of liking wine and boys.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Niall asks before taking long pull off his drink. He stretches his neck up and the long column of it should be illegal not to kiss.

“Anything, you know,” Nick explains with a flick of his hand, “I spend so much time with young Harold that I thought I’d give the other members of One Direction the chance to be my favorite,”

And then they talk about absolute shit for the next half an hour. Niall tells him about Ireland and Derby and his little nephew and Nick tells Niall about the radio station and a trip to Ibiza he’s planning and Pig. Niall quite likes hearing about Pig.

But their conversation never really moves beyond that, is the problem. He guesses he can’t consider it small talk because he’s actually learned some things about Niall and they’ve been laughing quite a lot, so that’s nice. It’s just that nothing seems to be getting Nick any closer to Niall’s dick, and that’s a tragedy in its own right.

“I quite like space, too,” Niall says randomly as he opens his third beer.

“Space? How do you mean?”

“I’ve got this friend, Greg-”

“I thought Greg was your brother?”

“I’ve got two Gregs,”

“Right, continue,”

“Friend Greg is a space economist, which, I don’t even know what that means, but he knows a lot about space! So he’s always teaching me about incredible shit like the ISS and the Mars Curiosity and where the planets are in the sky and everything. Space is fucking cool, man,”

“Yeah?” Nick finishes off his glass and hits Niall’s (good) knee, “Well then teach me something, stud,”

Niall ponders it for a second, staring up at the stars like he’s putting together a lesson plan, then puts his beer on the concrete patio.

“Here, lie back with me,” he directs. Nick goes along with it and lies next to Niall as they both look up at the sky. There’s a few seconds of silence where Nick’s mind starts to wander before Niall starts his spiel.

“The ISS isn’t having any flybys right now so we can’t see it, and that’s honestly my favorite,” he explains, “So I’ll tell you about something else. London’s kinda shitty for looking at space because of all the light pollution (and air pollution, probably) so you have to get out into the country to really get a good look. Anyways, if you look over there,” he points to a spot in the corner of the yard and Nick tries to follow.

“That’s the constellation Gemini. It’s supposed to look like twins, like stick figure twins. And it’s near Orion which is particularly neat because Betelgeuse is in it, which is a really bright, red supergiant star. But back to Gemini, so, right now Jupiter is in the south of it, and it’s pretty bright. You can’t see it right now, but you could normally. And if we had a telescope and were further out from the city then you’d even be able to see the Giant Red Spot,”

“Look at you,” Nick says turning his face to smile at him, “You’re a straight-up smarty pants. Who knew what was hidden behind that blonde mop of yours?”

Niall laughs and clutches at his stomach, and it feels good to make Niall do that. Nick reaches over to bat at Niall’s hip. Just friendly, just playful, but then Niall quiets down and it’s silent again.

Nick’s about to say something when Niall moves to get up. He assumes that Niall’s just going to grab his beer instead, he turns and settles himself over Nick. Which is. Which is new.

“You really think I’m smart?” Niall asks with wide-blown eyes and a piece of hair falling onto his forehead.

“Of course,” Nick moves his hands up to play at a peek of skin where Niall’s shirt is riding up, which he hopes is alright. And it should be considering Niall’s practically sitting on his lap, and people who sit on your lap are usually alright with a bit of skin-to-skin contact, “You have to be smart to make it as far as you have, right?”

Niall smiles, and it lights him up to see, and then cups Nick’s face in his hand, leaning down slowly to kiss Nick softly. And it absolutely causes butterflies in Nick’s belly, which is _ridiculous_ because he does _not_ have a crush.

“Is this what you’ve been planning all night?” Niall asks all coy, like he hadn’t been flirting with Nick through his entire space ordeal. Nick smiles anyway.

“Something like it,” and Nick grabs onto Niall’s hips and hauls him forward until Niall’s laying across him. He lets out a small ‘umph’ at the impact, but Niall’s quite small and isn’t really a heavy weight across his chest.

The thing is that Niall smiles. A lot. He smiles as they kiss and as they break apart to breathe. He smiles as he licks into Nick’s mouth sooner than expected, rushing to make up for the time they’ve lost blabbering on about Pig. And Nick just bites down on Niall’s lip, savoring in the pleased little noises he makes.

It doesn’t take long for the clothes to start coming off, either. Nick gets his hands under Niall’s shirt and starts skimming over the waistband of his pants and the hair around his navel. That’s enough to get Niall to sit up and bring his shirt over his head, tossing it beside Nick before coming back down to kiss him again. And kissing’s going great, really it is. But he’s spent the past few days thinking about dick, and Nick’s not really in a place to deny himself one, and the first brush over the hard line of Niall’s in his jeans brings him to a stuttering halt.

“Nick,” he breathes out, propping himself up on his hands so Nick has better access.

He undoes Niall’s button and flies and Niall does a little shimmy to help his trouser and pants down his hips and then Nick can finally see Niall’s perfect cock. Pink and shiny with precome already collecting on the head, standing hard against his stomach.

“Look at you,” Nick whispers as he wraps his hand around it and starts pumping, “Such a pretty cock for a pretty boy. Bet it’d feel so good in my mouth, do you think?”

Niall whines and starts bucking in Nick’s hand as he starts moving it faster, twisting at the end. It should probably be burning a bit because they haven’t got any lube hiding in the potted plants, but Niall’s not saying anything if it is.

“Christ, bet you’d come undone in my mouth,” Nick continues, because now that he can tell Niall how lovely he looks it’s hard not to, “And I could hold you down so you couldn’t move your hips, couldn’t get greedy. Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,”

Showing his age, Niall comes quickly. Nick brings him down to his chest slowly to help him through his aftershocks, rubbing over Niall’s back as he comes down from his orgasm. It’s as much of a comforting gesture as it is a chance for Nick to feel out the taut muscles of his shoulders and back.

“Fuck,” Niall repeats as soon as he feels up to talking again, and Nick just turns his head and smiles in his direction.

“So it was that good, then? Knew I was a sex god, but it’s nice to get the reaffirmation,”

Niall kisses him to get him to shut up, edging himself off of Nick’s body so he can snake his hand down to get at Nick’s flies.

“Christ,” Niall whines as he gets them open, “Why’re you not wearing pants?”

“Pants are for popstars,” Nick grits out as Niall finally gets a hand on him.

Niall works him slowly as they kiss, and Nick’s been waiting so long for this. Okay, like five days, but he’s also been a bit of a shut-in recently and he hasn’t had an orgasm by someone else’s hands in a good, long while. And Niall’s pretty damn good at this, too, considering he’s pretty sure Niall’s never been with another guy. He probably has had enough practice on his own dick, but his long, steady movements have Nick trying to keep from nutting off for as long as possible. Anything to keep Niall from stopping.

They kiss until he finally comes across Niall’s hand, and he decides that he needs to rest for a moment before his brain explodes. Niall bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick the come off his fingers doesn’t help. And it’s amazing the way that Niall can completely destroy him like this, especially when Nick’s older and stronger and bigger and more experienced. But Niall just has this way of surprising everyone. He presses small kisses into the side of Nick’s neck as he comes down, eventually turning it into a love bite that he’s sure will have Finchy in hysterics the next day at work. He can’t find it in his mind to care, though.

After a few more minutes of lazy kisses and soft caresses, Nick is the first one to move.

“Maybe we should get going,” he whispers. He doesn’t know what time it is, but he does have a morning radio show to get to that doesn’t start at an easily-forgiving time.

“I dunno, I think we can sleep out here. Under the stars all romantic-like,”

“Yeah, me with my old man back and you with you old man knee sleeping on the cold, hard ground all night. Sounds like a trip to the physio to me,”

He helps Niall off the ground and sends him to the guest bathroom where he can find a spare toothbrush to use. He insists he can call a car and get back to his own place, but Nick won’t listen. All he asks is that Niall pull back on his pants before entering the house; he doesn’t like Pig to see naked bits.

He brings all the bottles inside and recycles them correctly, remembers to fill up Pig’s food dish and wish her goodnight, and by the time he gets back to his bedroom the lights are off and it seems like Niall’s already asleep. After a quick teeth brush and face wash he pulls on a pair of pants and gets into bed. Niall starts moving immediately, snuggling up against Nick’s side like he’s an extra-large pillow. And they kiss until the late hours of the night, entirely irresponsible for the time Nick has to be at work, but something he doesn’t regret all the same.

**

Finchy brings it up nearly the second he walks into the studios.

“Oh my God, Grimmy, what the hell is that on your neck?”

Nick huffs, “I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, douchebag,”

“The fucking huge love bite is what I’m talking about,”

“It’s not a lovebite,” he says as he files through a stack of notes left for him, “It’s a mark left by my seatbelt in the car this morning,”

“No, really, who were you shagging on a Tuesday night? It definitely wasn’t there yesterday,”

“Well it definitely wasn’t you, and that’s the only thing that matters, really,”

Fiona decides to interrupt at that.

“Jeez, is it getting cold in here or are you just in a piss-poor mood?”

“Yeah,” Finchy agrees, “I’ve never seen you so secretive about the guys you’ve slept with,”

“Sometimes there just isn’t anything to say,” he says with a bite.

“What, did it end poorly?”

Nick walks away at that, and that seems to quiet them down for the rest of the day. The thing is, though, that it didn’t end poorly at all.

When he had woken up that morning he felt like shit, but when he remembered that just a few hours earlier Niall Horan had given him a hand job, he started to perk up a bit. He didn’t wake Niall up because of the time but left him a note on the dresser telling him to have a nice day and that he has quite a cute arse, the usual notes you never leave to your one-night stands.

And a few hours later Niall finally texts him. He asks if he can bring Pig home with him, and although Nick declines he promises Niall that he’s free to come over at any time for a play date, and he wishes in earnest that Niall follows up on that.

**

Harry’s worse, though, because he too notices the mark when they eat lunch together that day, but he has the aid of knowledge on his side.

“Oh my God!” he gasps as soon as he sits down at their table in the corner. Nick reflexively brings a hand up to cover the mark, “What did you two do last night?”

“I have no idea of what you speak,” Nick mumbles, and honestly he doesn’t know how he thought he’d get away with all this.

“Did you even talk at all, or did you stick your tongues down each other’s throats the second he walked through the door?”

“I am _not_ talking about this with you. It’s the literal last thing I’m going to do,” Nick says with the highest tone of finality he can manage. He refuses to look Harry in eye, choosing to think over which salad has the least chance of having rocket in it.

“Nothing? I can’t get anything out of you?”

“Are you telling me Niall hasn’t said anything?” and Nick’s honestly surprised.

“No, I don’t think he knows I know, to be honest. Remember, it was just supposed to be you ringing him up. Not me being an arse and ringing him for you. And, okay, you don’t have to tell me anything explicit, but everything went alright, right?”

“Yeah, it was honestly really great. Pig loves him and he has a fucking fantastic smile and-”

“-obviously a previously unknown love for marking,”

“Shut up,” Nick sighs.

**

Nick does that thing where he wonders and has anxiety over when to next invite Niall over. He doesn’t want to seem too eager, but he’s going crazy over the next time they can get together. And honestly, Niall’s in a world famous pop band, and doesn’t exactly have the simplest schedule. He’s fighting over whether he should whine to Harry when Niall calls him.

“Grimmy, how’s it up there in Posh Hill?” he asks, like they’re a couple of lads going out to a pub.

“Little bit lonely, if I’m being honest. Not me! Pig! Downright misses you, has been moping around the flat all day,”

Pig’s ears perk up at the sound of her name and Nick pets behind them to get them to go down again.

“Ah, how sweet of her. Tell her she’s a doll,”

“Will do, she deserves it,”

He smiles dumbly down at her for a few seconds before Niall picks up again.

“So, uh, I was doing some wondering,”

“Don’t do too much, it’ll hurt your smart little brain,” Niall has to stop to giggle for a bit before restarting.

“Well, basically, on Friday I’m jetting off to Stockholm and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do something on Thursday night? I know that’s only two days away and that’s short notice and that’s shit but I’d really like to see you again before I leave, if that’s at all possible,”

He sounds flat-out nervous, which Nick didn’t even know was an emotion Niall experienced.

“Yeah, ‘course. My flat’s always welcome for a little spot of Niall Horan. How about I make you a dinner like I didn’t get to last time?”

“Sounds perfect. Should I bring a bottle of wine?”

“Please, Horan! You wouldn’t know what a good wine was if someone hit you over the head with one. Just bring yourself and it’ll be good enough. Deal?”

Niall giggles again, “Deal,”

They hang up, and it’s then that Nick’s happy he bought the 15-pack of Carlsberg. It doesn’t seem like Niall’s going anywhere.

**

Niall arrives at Nick’s house wearing a plaid button-down shirt, a nice pair of jeans, and holding a bouquet of flowers.

“It felt weird not to bring something,” he explains as Nick leans forward to sniff them, “They’re called calla lilies and I picked them up from a shop near my flat. Is that weird? It’s kinda weird isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s weird, idiot, but what else would I expect from you?”

Niall laughs and pushes Nick through the door so he can get in. From what Nick can see, they’ve been pretty lucky. No one has seen Niall leaving or entering his flat, and it’s something he’s eternally grateful for. That’s a path he’d really rather not walk down.

He sets off towards the kitchen to find a vase for the lilies and he hears Pig come and greet Niall in the entry. Niall barks back at her, which Nick finds oddly endearing.

“I’ve made some tortellini, hope you like Italian,” he yells back, because honestly who doesn’t like a bit of pasta?

“Sounds good,” Niall says, suddenly in the kitchen and scaring the shit out of Nick.

“Well, good, because I’m not making anything else and I’d hate for you to be hungry,”

Niall laughs and then wanders over to the wall in Nick’s kitchen that has the pictures he’s taken over the years on it. He seems relaxed and at ease, so that’s when Nick decides to drop the Big Question.

“So have you, um, told Harry about all this?”

“No,” Niall turns around to face him with a furrowed brow, “Should I have?”

“Well, I was just wondering because me and Harry are best mates and you and Harry are best mates and now we’ve… touched dicks and it can all be very confusing if we don’t approach it correctly,”

“This isn’t a math equation and Harry’s not that high-maintenance. He’ll understand, I reckon,”

“There’s something else concerning Harry,” Nick says as he turns back to stir his sauce and intentionally avoid Niall’s gaze, “Um, did you happen to know he’s the reason all of this happened?”

He bites his lip and waits for something to go wrong, but instead Niall just smiles and moves closer.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, um, Tuesday night was kind of a product of me professing my desire to snog you over a glass of wine and Harry being the absolute dickwad he is and dialling you without my knowledge. He kinda… well he told me about how you felt about me. Fuck, I hope that doesn’t make you mad. It came from a good place in his heart,”

“Shut up, Grimmy,” Niall laughs, “I’m not mad. I kinda figured, honestly. How you just randomly called me up and asked me to come over to do something that sounded as much like a date as any other one I’ve been on. Not to mention I knew he was over yours that night so, it just made sense. It’s why I said yes, to be honest. Knew you were probably aiming for something, something below my belt,”

“So you wouldn’t have come over if you didn’t think I would want to fuck you?” Nick asks all offended like.

“What? Are you telling me people actually want to hang out with you without the promise of an orgasm to sweeten the deal?”

Nick hits him in the shoulder hard enough for it to hurt, but Niall just continues laughing like he doesn’t feel pain.

“Just kidding, just kidding. Would’ve come over anyways, but probably would’ve worn less cologne and not spent the entire ride over thinking of ways to impress you with space talk. The orgasm was just a bonus,”

“Good to hear,” Nick smiles as he checks on the pasta in the boiling pot.

“Speaking of orgasms,” Niall says with his voice dropped dangerously low and his hands starting to encircle Nick’s waist, “What do you say we skip the food and jump straight into the fun part of the night, hmm?”

“Excuse me!” Nick shrieks, knocking Niall’s hand from his hip, “I’ve slaved over this hot stove all night just to make you dinner, and you’re going to pass on it?”

“It’s a jar of pesto and pre-made tortellini. We can reheat it when we’re done!”

“No we can’t! It’ll get all gross and lukewarm! We’re doing things in the correct order!”

Niall’s silent for a few seconds so Nick thinks he’s won, until…

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You’re denying yourself sex for fucking Italian food?”

“Number one, I’m not denying it I’m _delaying_ it. There’s a fucking difference. Number two, my Italian food is fantastic and I’m starving. Go sit down, I’ve already set the table,”

Niall huffs and walks away, and Nick remembers that there’s maybe a reason he left the 20-year-olds behind a long time ago. Such mouthy little things.

The pasta finally finishes cooking so Nick mixes it with the pesto and pours it into a bowl. Before getting back to Niall he decides to put Pig in the guest room with a bowl of food, because if anything sexy happens he’s not gonna be happy if he has to delay things any further so that she doesn't have to see anyone with his dick out.

When he gets out to the dining room with the food in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other, Niall is sat at the table with his phone out in front of him.

“Oy, get off that thing, will ya?” he yells. Niall jerks back to attention and pushes his phone to the side.

“Didn’t realize eating dinner in your flat came with so many rules. _Put your phone away_. _Dinner before sex_. Might as well be a prison,”

 

“Oh, yes, poor Niall. Having to be courteous and enjoy a good meal and company. ‘M being such a meany. Not so much _craic_ now, is it?”

Niall doesn’t respond, but he does start laughing as he dishes pasta onto his plate. That’s good enough for Nick. He ends up being extremely quiet throughout the meal, though, which is surprising. Nick finds himself having to carry most of the conversation with just a few lines thrown in by Niall. Harry has said time and time again that it’s hard to get Niall to shut up, so Nick can’t imagine why he’s being this way. That is, until Nick looks up and sees Niall taking a drink from his bottle. And then _oh_. It all makes sense.

Because Niall isn’t just drinking, he’s damn near making out with the bottle. It’s almost lewd (it downright _is_ lewd) how he lingers on the neck of the bottle, his mouth making a perfect ‘o’ shape. He catches Nick’s eyes when it clicks in his head, and Niall gives a small smile before pulling off with a small ‘pop’, his tongue lingering on the bottle’s lip for just a second too long for it to not be blatant flirting.

Nick stops his story about Finchy sleepwalking and puts his hand in front of the dumb smile that’s subconsciously forming. Niall winks at him, which is equal parts cheesy and rude, and Nick just has to laugh. Niall is surely expecting Nick to drop everything and take him on the table right there, but Nick’s 29 years old for God’s sake and he’s spent half of his life practicing self-control in front of flirty boys. If Niall’s going to be a tease, well then he’s going to be a prick.

“So, anyways,” he continues as Niall’s face drops, “Finchy runs into my hotel room, yeah? Completely starkers and with pillow lines still streaked across his pale arse,”

And he hopes to God that if there’s any cock block in the world it would be the thought of Finchy standing naked in front of them in a hotel room in Liverpool. It seems to work, too, because Niall stops with the whole act (though Nick does catch him leaving his fork in his mouth far too long to be considered normal) and he’s almost considered it a victory before he feels a socked foot making its way up his leg.

He stops immediately because not even he can believe that Niall’s playing this dirty.

“Why’d you stop talking, Nick?” he asks with the biggest shit-eating grin known to man plastered across his face, “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, just gathering my thoughts,” he grits out because now Niall’s foot is passing his knee and steadily inching closer to his crotch.

He knows where this is going, and really he would like to keep up the act that it’s not affecting him in any way, but then Niall’s foot _finally_ reaches his dick and there aren’t many things he can think about then. His legs spread open of their own accord and Niall grins like he’s the one who’s won. Which he has not he _has not._

Nick tries to continue talking but he chokes on his own words when Niall hits him right over his zip. Like he’s been fucking practicing or something. He tries to hold off for a few more seconds before finally pulling up the white flag. He grabs his napkin, wipes his face with it, then throws it down on the table. A maniacal grin breaks across Niall’s face but his foot doesn’t leave Nick’s crotch. Nick scoots back his chair until it falls from his lap and he’s farther away from the table, opening up his arms and sending an eyebrow raise in Niall’s direction. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Niall walks over, trips over is more like it, to take his place sitting in Nick’s lap. Nick’s hands fly up to catch his waist and he looks down to see Niall’s only wearing one shoe, which only makes everything that much more ridiculous.

“Having a spot of fun back there, hmm?” he asks as he pulls Niall in closer.

Niall, in the tone of the rest of the night, says nothing and just leans forward to kiss Nick silent. He hauls him in by the back of his neck and licks into Nick’s mouth with little pretence behind it. Niall’s made it clear from the moment he’s set foot in the door that he’s expecting something to come out of the night, and he’s certainly not stopping now.

Nick lets him take control as they continue. Niall’s chest heaves with adrenaline and want and restraint as he hugs his arms around Nick’s shoulders tighter until their bodies are nearly entirely flush together. For his part, Nick doesn’t know what to do with his hands. They hang lazily until he tucks them under Niall’s shirt, where he can feel out the pretty curve of his spine as he’s sat sideways in his lap.

They only kiss for a little while longer, the remnants of the playlist Nick had made specially for the night still playing in the background, before Niall pulls away to tug his shirt off. Nick tries to help, but he’s moving kinda slow in comparison to Niall’s impossible energy. Niall moves in to kiss Nick some more before he finally gets stopped.

“What do you want to do, babe?” Nick asks as he runs a hand over Niall’s sweet face. It’s the first time Niall’s being forced to talk all night, and it’s like his brain doesn’t work as he struggles to come up with an answer.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” Nick continues, because if he’s being honest he’d love to be able to show off the skills he’s perfected since uni. At that, Niall perks to life.

“No, no, no,” he repeats, then snuggles into Nick’s shoulder like what he’s about to say is a secret, “Want to suck _you_ off,”

And, well, that’s something else entirely. Because Nick’s been around the block and he’s sucked quite a few dicks and he knows what he’s doing, but he’s also entirely sure that Niall _hasn’t_. And it’s one thing to give mutual, rushed hand jobs laying in the back garden with dewy grass under your skin and the excuse that you’d been drinking. But it’s another thing _entirely_ to flirt with someone all evening and end up in their lap, then proceed to whisper in their ear that they’d like to lose their blowjob virginity to them.

“You don’t have to,” Nick whispers back. He’s not gonna have Niall feeling like he’s being pressured into anything.

Niall shakes his head in the crook of Nick’s shoulder, “No, want. Want to get my tongue on you, please,”

And. Nick’s never been one to deny someone so polite.

“Okay,” Nick says and then Niall’s crawling off his lap, his vest getting pulled off along the way, and settling along the ground between Nick’s knees. He’s half under the table and looks entirely debauched.

“Trousers,” Nick reminds him, because he wants the full experience. Niall gets off his knees and stands in front of Nick so that he can completely undress. He pulls off the remaining shoe and his socks first, and when he loses his balance and starts to fall, Nick’s hands come up to catch him. The jeans come off next, with the pants following soon after. There’s something a bit magical about the pink blush of Niall’s skin that extends all the way around his body. Then again, Niall’s a bit magical.

He quickly kneels on the floor, and Nick feels like he should be asking about his knee but Niall doesn’t seem to be saying anything so that’s as good a sign as any, surely. Niall leans closer into his lap, before suddenly pulling back.

“Wait, where’s Pig?” he asks frantically, his eyes looking half-gone already.

It takes Nick a few seconds to remember why he’d be bringing up the damn dog at a time like this, and then _oh_.

“I put her away ages ago, we’re in the clear. We’re good. Green light. Go,”

Niall doesn’t need to be told twice as he zeroes in on Nick’s flies, getting them open and pulling Nick’s cock out. He’s not wearing pants again, and Niall seems to be less surprised this time. He lifts up his bum so that Niall can pull his jeans off them round his ass until they’re gathering around his ankles.

If this is Niall’s first time, he doesn’t let on. Quickly he gets his mouth on Nick; open, hot, and wet around the sides of his cock.

“God,” Niall says as he pulls back to get a good look at Nick’s aching hard-on. Nick wonders what Niall thinks of it, because it was dark the last time they had done this and this must be the first time Niall’s really seen his dick outside of a loo. The Q&A session can wait for later, though, because then Niall is completely taking Nick into his mouth and _fuck_.

“Fuck,” he moans, drawing out the word as long as he can. Niall smiles at that. Dick.

He seems to be feeling it out at first, figuring out what to really do. Not that he doesn’t know, probably, but Niall’s never been in this position before and Nick knows how that feels – completely lost to what exactly to do with your tongue and how to fold your lips over your teeth and all that. Niall gets it down quick.

He starts moving his head experimentally, taking a bit more of Nick with each bob. And he must finally cotton to with what to do with his tongue because he starts moving it along the underside of his cock and that feels like-

“Fuck,” Nick groans, “Niall, you’re fucking amazing,”

His hands find their way to the back of Niall’s head to rest in his soft blonde hair. It’s not like he’s going to push him or anything, because that’s way too much for his first time, but he likes the feeling that he _could_. And that Niall’d probably just let him.

Suddenly, Niall seems to go a bit too far and Nick can feel his throat constrict. He holds back another groan as Niall pulls off to cough.

“Sorry, ‘ve got a shit gag reflex,” he apologizes.

“No, don’t be, you’re perfect, fuck,” Nick musters to say with whatever mind he has left, “Just continue whenever you want, okay?”

Niall nods and then leans back in, but instead of taking Nick back into his mouth he leans further down and mouths at the base of his cock, getting down to his balls. And that sends fucking shivers down Nick’s spine. He has to death grip the table edge over Niall’s head just to stop from coming on the spot.

Niall removes his mouth and grabs a hold of Nick’s base, steadying his cock so that he can run his tongue up the side of it. Once he gets to the head he pops just the tip in, swirling his tongue around it. He must be trying to avoid choking again, and that’s perfectly alright with Nick, especially if he changes to whatever this move is called. To make up for the loss of depth, Niall brings his hand up to slowly jerk Nick off. He’s got a good system down, the swirling and the wanking and everything, and Nick gives just a short warning before he’s shooting off into Niall’s mouth.

His head sinks back against the chair as he tries to remember how to breathe, feeling his orgasm out all the way to his toes and back. When he finally gets it together he looks down to see Niall staring back up at him, an expectant look in his innocently blue eyes and a drop of cum still on his lip. Nick wipes it off with his thumb, putting it back in Niall’s mouth. He swallows it without a question.

“Fuck, did you swallow it all, babe?” he asks. Niall smiles and nods, seems to love the praise.

“Fucking amazing, you are,” he continues, then bends down to kiss Niall. Exposed, rushed, and dirty. He holds Niall still with a hand to the back of the neck, but even that doesn’t stop Niall from shaking. And as Nick looks down he can see why – Niall’s achingly hard. Entirely erect, red, and leaking, and being so so _so_ good for Nick.

“Come on,” he says into Niall’s mouth before standing up from his chair and reaching his hand out for Niall to grasp. He takes it eagerly, and before Nick can even start to get them anywhere Niall kisses him again. Nick places a hand at the small of his back to steady him and kicks out of his jeans so they can get moving.

He leads them back through his flat until he gets to the sofa, and though he was aiming for the bedroom it seems to be good enough. Niall falls onto it as he lets go of him to pull the rest of his clothes off, and by the time he looks up again he sees the most amazing sight he’s even seen in the world, probably.

Niall is kneeling on the sofa with his arse pressed out to the room, like he’s got no shame, and his head resting on the back of his sofa. He’s whining loudly now, his cock still heavy and ready to come.

“Look at you,” Nick says and he comes up beside him to rub at his back and kiss him. He reaches over to the end table while Niall is distracted and brings out a bottle of lube he’d stored there earlier. Just in case.

“Christ,” Niall says as Nick pulls back and drops the bottle on the couch, “Do you have one within arm’s reach at all times?”

Nick smiles “Just for you,” then grabs Niall’s head between his hands and starts kissing him, because it’s hard not to when his cheeks are all flushed and he’s so pliant he’d just do about anything you’d want. Nick pulls against Niall until they’re moving together, their cocks lining up and dragging against each other. Nick can feel himself wanting to get hard again, dropping his hand down Niall’s back and around the curve of his ass.

“Please,” Niall whines into the kiss, not risking breaking apart but growing needier by the second.

“Is that what you want, love?” Nick teases with a finger pushing in experimentally. Niall just drops his head to Nick’s shoulder without warning and lets out a moan.

“Yes, want your fingers,”

Nick drops him on the back of the sofa with a kiss to his head and grabs the lube off the cushion. When he picks his head back up, though, Niall’s got his arse stuck out for the world to see and his eyes closed like he’s gagging for it.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Nick says, but Niall doesn’t respond until Nick has a slick finger circling his hole. Moaning out like he can’t even control his voice.

At the first push in, Niall grows silent. He’s tight and hot and Nick edges in so fucking slowly it almost pains him, but he’d rather not have Niall hurting. He drops his other forearm under Niall’s head so he has a place to rest, and when he does his hair is all sweaty and Nick can feel his short, laboured breaths against his skin. He’s never felt something so hot in his entire life, he swears.

Suddenly, Niall shudders as his legs subconsciously spread further apart and his back arches. Nick smiles; Niall’s found the magic of a good fingering.

“Holy fuck! What was that?” he yells, opening his eyes and trying to catch his breath.

“That, young Niall, is a prostate. And it’s your best friend. Have you never had anything up your arse, really?”

“No,” Niall gulps, “Really dumb of me though,”

Nick makes a habit of accidentally rubbing against it, and that shuts Niall up more effectively than anything else he’s ever seen.

“It’s a shame you’ve never done this,” Nick says as he leans back to get a better look, “You’re taking me so fucking well. Bet you’d look so fucking good with a cock up your arse, or a dildo. Maybe my tongue, what do you think?”

“Can you get a hand on me?” Niall asks, lowly like he’s embarrassed.

“Don’t you want to see if you can come without it, hm?”

Niall’s knuckles blanch where they’re gripping to the sofa cushions as he tightens his hold at Nick’s words.

“Yeah,” he whispers and drops his mouth open.

“Another?” Nick asks, crouching down closer to Niall’s ear. He nods back, a moan ripped from his throat as Nick pushes a second finger in.

After getting Niall used to it, to the extra size and pressure, Nick tries to open him up more, spreading his fingers. He’s not going to fuck Niall, because it’s only the first time the kid’s even had something up there and he’s not ruining his first time, but he does want to see how long he can get him to last. He’s always been under the impression that Niall doesn’t have the greatest endurance (he’s not quite sure if it’s his age or his general hyperactivity) but he’s never wanted to be proven wrong more in his life.

Niall starts whining, “I can’t do it. Please, Nick, just touch me,”

Nick scoots in closer, mouth up against Niall’s ear.

“One more finger, maybe? Wanna try that? Get you really open, make you work for it?”

It takes Niall a few seconds to respond, and Nick’s already drawing his fingers out when he starts talking again.

“One more,” he gasps, “wanna feel it,”

Nick slicks up his ring finger and presses it in with the other two, slowly at first but then speeding up as Niall’s hole stretches to accommodate all of them. He groans as Nick picks up the pace, the vibrations of it reverberating in his throat.

But he knows that Niall’s not going to come from this alone. He doesn’t think many people actually _can_ do that, and Niall’s not showing any signs of getting closer to it. Nick decides to take mercy on him, dropping his free hand down to pull Niall off as his other hand continues to open him up.

He only gets in a few good strokes, with an added “thank fuck”, before Niall comes, surprisingly quietly. Nick pulls his fingers out and lowers Niall down to lie on the couch. He’s breathing heavy and a little out of it, but altogether seems to have had his mind blow. Which is pretty nice.

“Hey, I’m gonna get you some water and something to clean us off with, alright?”

He takes his time in the kitchen, not because he’s trying to avoid Niall; rather, his mind needs to catch the fuck up to what has happened. When the night had started he hadn’t really planned for them to get this far, he hadn’t really planned for Niall to want to do so much already. But he does have a sweaty, sticky, lonely Niall sprawled out all naked on his couch, and that’s one thing he knows how to take care of.

“Here, sit up, get some water in you,” Nick says as he returns to the room. Niall obeys, drinking the water down in fast gulps. They sit there in silence for a few seconds before Niall speaks up.

“Did you bring the towel to wipe me off with?”

“Oh, shit, right, yeah. Here,”

Niall relaxes back into the sofa, drink in hand, as Nick wipes him down. Freeing him of all cum and sweat that he can reach with the cloth.

“I mean, I don’t mean to sound needy, but you thought that was great, yeah?”

Niall grins, “Fuck, Grimmy, shut the fuck up and come here,” And then he’s pulling Nick in the back of his neck and kissing him. Hard and insistent with a hand gripped at his shoulder, keeping them together. Nick settles over him, not really planning to continue the night on for much longer but not wanting it to end all the same.

“We need to sleep,” Nick reminds him after a few minutes, reluctantly.

“No,” Niall pouts.

Nick gets up anyways, because this really is not up for discussion, “What time is your driver coming again?”

“I don’t know, seven I think?”

“Yes, we’re going to bed _now_. Because I’m a big, important radio host with a show that starts at 6:30 and you’re a big, important popstar with a flight to catch. And neither of us wants to be grumpy tomorrow, hm?”

Niall mopes himself off the couch and off into the bedroom where Nick promises there’s a spare toothbrush in his cabinet. And it seems to be a theme that Niall gets to laze about and ready himself for bed as Nick cleans up, but considering it’s Nick’s home and he’s the host and he couldn’t make Niall unhappy if he tried, he doesn’t see any other options. He just pulls on a pair of trousers and gets their dishes in the washer, opens the guestroom door for Pig to come out when she wakes up, and balls up their clothes to take back to his closet.

“Here,” Nick throws Niall’s phone on his lap as he walks into the room, “You’ve bloody earned it. Cherish it,”

“Oh, how special of me!” Niall laughs, “I’m probably just going to go to bed now, though,”

“Wait up for me. I’ll just be a few more minutes,”

After getting himself ready to sleep, and deciding that he probably doesn’t need to sleep in pants since they’ve already spent a decent amount of time together with theirs off, he just decides to skip his and hurry under the covers nude as all hell.

“Can I turn off the light now?” he asks, and Niall nods with a little grin on his face that Nick wants to take a picture of and lock away. For what he’s not sure, but probably something.

They skip the kissing, Niall just turning his back to Nick as soon as the lights are out. Nick doesn’t even know what to do because that was a pretty good part of last time and he had honestly been looking forward to it. Quietly, Niall reaches his hand back and grabs a hold of Nick’s, pulling it around his waist until Nick gets the idea. They fall asleep with Nick’s hands on Niall’s hips and his lips pressed to Niall’s back.

**

“Jesus Christ, Nick, what the hell is that?”

He looks down at his arm, to see what Matt’s gone on about, and finds a bite mark he must have missed earlier in the morning on his forearm. Right where Niall’s head had been resting the night before.

“Me and Pig were playing around and she bit me on accident. No big deal, Fincham, finish your bagel,”

“I’m no fucking vet but that’s a human bite imprint if I’ve ever seen one,”

“Oh!” Aimee almost yells from her spot flipping through her phone on the sofa, “Does Nicky have himself a boy that I don’t know about?” It’s about time that he had a little talk with Ian about bringing girlfriends to work, though in all honesty he himself might’ve invited her out for lunch, it’s hard to remember sometimes.

Nick rolls his eyes and rolls away on his desk chair, but Aimee stops him and pushes him back towards the table. His bones go jelly in his body as he prepares to talk about the thing he least wants to talk about.

“Nope, nope, nope, you’re not scooting yourself out of this one. Tell!”

She sits down and looks him straight in the eye. He says nothing.

“Come the fuck on! You’re usually like the loosest-lipped person around here when he comes to your sex life. Over the however long I’ve known you I’ve heard _way_ too many details that I never thought I’d hear nor that I wanted to hear. So fucking spill because you’ve gotten me accustomed to that level of inclusion and now you’re ripping it away from me,”

Matt stares at him and Aimee stares at him and even the cleaner in the back seems to have forgotten how to empty bins and is staring at Nick. Which is rude.

“Listen, guys, it’s not a big deal. It’s just a guy who’s… who I’m seeing,”

Aimee looks pissed now, “And that’s all we’re gonna get?”

“Yeah! Fuck me, right? Trying to keep my private life private. Thought you’d all be thrilled to not have to know where my dick’s been for once,”

“But we can’t even get his name?”

“I don’t think he’d want everyone to know, really,” he shrugs, “But I promise he’s like… a good guy. You’d all love him, really! It’s just a really difficult thing, but, don’t worry about me, yeah?”

Aimee looks back to watch the cleaner leave, and then she grabs Nick’s hands in both of hers and drops her voice real low.

“Nick, if it’s Harry just know that-”

And that just sends Nick off barking with laughter, because of-fucking-course it’s Harry.

“No. No it’s not him, _God_ no,”

“That’s the first straight answer we’ve gotten out of you,” Matt perks up to say, “That must mean it’s-”

“A direct denial, thank you Fincham you’re right. It’s really not him. It’s _really_ not him, I promise,”

“It makes sense, though,” Aimee continues, “because you wouldn’t be able to tell us and he’s just been home on break and God knows he’s probably a biter,”

“I try my hardest to not think too hard about where Harry’s mouth’s been, thank you. And it’s certainly been nowhere near me so the two of you can drop that, yes?”

Matt leaves the table with a short goodbye and Nick doesn’t see how in the world they can be mad at him for just trying to keep his own damn life private.

“We just,” Aimee drops her voice down low, “we just want you to have someone to talk to about things. We don’t want you to feel like you have to hide something from us,”

She does sound really concerned and he can’t for the life of him figure out why.

“I know you guys aren’t trying to be rude, though you are, it’s just something for me and this guy right now. Just the two of us. It’s going great, though, it really is! He’s super sweet and cute and a downright laugh. And… maybe someday you’ll get to meet him,”

Aimee leans forward and kisses the side of Nick’s head sweetly.

“I trust you,”

**

The distance thing sucks, though. Which is something Nick never had expected because, frankly, he’d never had to deal with it in his life. Most guys he’s been with have either been at his uni or in London, and they haven’t lasted long enough for either party to go away for long. And it’s not really like he and Niall have even been together for long, at all, so it’s kinda weird that by the Sunday after Niall’s gone he starts to get a twist in his chest that feels awfully like a mix between loneliness and want.

It doesn’t help, either, that Nick is shit at texting back and Niall’s shit at texting first. There have been a few attempts to continue talking, but they usually end quickly and there’s been a disappointing amount of dick pics. Nick decides to distract himself in the studio, considering it’s his goddamn job, and everyone at work stops being pests once he stops showing up in the morning with marks across his skin and looking like he’s had a good fuck the night before. And they even know what that looks like, which is kinda fucked up.

Pig’s a great help at home, because if there’s a cure for loneliness it’s giving her a tummy rub. He wonders if she misses Niall, too, because they seemed to have had a real good thing going before he left for fucking Sweden or whatever. If she does miss him, though, she says nothing.

It’s been 12 days since they said goodbye with a quick snog in his entryway, and 2 and a half days since the last text, and Nick’s sitting at home on the couch with Pig by his side. There’s no more wine left and he can’t be arsed to go out and get more. Plus, he thinks that drinking by yourself on a Thursday is probably a sign that you miss someone, and he most certainly does _not_. That’d be ridiculous. He’s about to switch off the sci-fi movie he’d been staring at for the last twenty minutes when his cell rings. It’s Harry.

“Harry, what are you doing calling me at this hour?” he answers, though Harry never needs a reason. Never usually has one, either.

It’s silent for a few more moments and Nick’s about to hang up on what he assumes is an infamous Harry-Styles-Butt-Dials when a voice comes through from the other end. It’s definitely not Harry’s.

“Hiya, Grimmy,” says Niall, following it with a small giggle.

“Niall? Where’s your phone?”

“Lost it,” he answers back, then hiccups.

“Lost it where?”

“Harry,”

“He stole it from you?”

“Yeah. I stole his, though. It’s really easy because he leaves it in his back pocket and lets people get too handsy when he’s drunk,”

“Why does he have yours, Niall?”

“I told him to take it so I wouldn’t do something stupid,”

Nick gulps, “Like what?”

“Call you,”

Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck fuck.

“So you broke your own rules just to call me?”

“I’m really bored,” Niall says lowly, his breath going short, “And really lonely. And really horny, and just, fuck, Nick, I want your-”

And then Niall’s voice breaks off and there’s a bit of struggle. Nick’s mind jumps to the worst possible conclusion and he wonders if he could call 999 and have them go to the exact address of “wherever the fuck Niall Horan is at this exact moment”. Then, Harry comes through.

“Fuck, Nick, I’m sorry,”

“Is Niall alright?” Nick asks.

“Yeah, his bodyguard just dragged him back to his room. Probably moping the entire way there. Sorry, he wasn’t supposed to call you. Were you asleep?”

“No. I meant, um, is Niall alright in general?”

“You mean, like, his knee?”

“God dammit, Harry! I never mean his fucking knee! It’s just that people who are alright don’t usually impose rules on themselves to not call someone, and then get drunk and break them on their own,”

“Oh, that. He’s a little lonely I guess? He doesn’t talk to me about it much, though he does a little bit,”

“What does he say?”

“Can we talk about this a different time, Nick, please?”

“No, we’re going to talk about it right now, actually, because I don’t want to fuck him up,”

“Shit, whatever. I guess you’re both just horrible at maintaining any type of communication and he’s feeling kinda lonely. And he got used to the idea of someone there to get off with, and _I’m_ certainly not going to do it. He’s just… it’s the tour bus blues,”

“I’m such a knob, fuck. I should be doing better at this, shouldn’t I?”

“I mean, probably, but Niall’s doing piss poor as well. He was going to call you the other day, sober, but chickened out and went to play table tennis with Zayn instead for, like, four hours,”

“How do I fucking fix this, then, when he’s like a thousand miles away and in another country and moving around every other day?”

“I dunno. Maybe just try and talk to him more? Niall’s really good at talking about his feelings; you just have to show that _you_ are too. Which you’re not. You’re shit at it,”

“Thanks, love you, too,”

“I dunno. You don’t need a grand gesture or anything-”

And then Nick stops listening right there, because yes he does.

**

The more Nick thinks about his idea the next day at work, the more genius it seems. There are tons of ways this can get messed up, for sure, but if everything goes to plan, then Niall should be happy and Nick should be well-fucked and the world will be right again.

There’s a ticket to Milan burning a hole in his wallet, and according to some fan on twitter that’s where they were spotted that morning when he went online. It leaves at 3:00, and that’s plenty of time to get to Heathrow after his show’s done. He’s got nothing in his diary for his weekend, so he decides to write “Niall” all over it with big, loopy letters and hearts everywhere. Not literally, of course. That’d be weird.

Everyone seems to sense how excited is all during the show. He’s energetic normally, even if he does wake up at 5 every morning, but today’s different. Today he’s buzzing with eagerness, hands clasped in front of him like if they break apart he’ll start shaking. He supposes they all notice, but are too polite to say or anything. Or too scared. One of those.

After the show’s done and he’s finished with everything else he needs to do, a car comes to pick him up. London traffic’s horrendous and he’s not going to be late to the most important fucking flight of his life so far. The driver’s a man named Mario, and Nick’s had him a few times. Mario’s a giant guy who drives like a maniac and knows London like the back of his hand. He’s good for times when Nick wants to pull men into the back of a cab and snog them boneless without someone blabbing to the _Sun_ , and he’s also good for cutting a drive down to half its normal time. Now that Nick comes to think of it, maybe he could be of use in both ways right now.

“Mario?” he calls out.

He can see Mario’s big, brown eyes shift back to him from the rear-view mirror.

“Yes, Mr. Grimshaw?” he calls back. He’s got this thick Essex accent and Nick fucking _loves_ it.

“How do you think about us stopping for just a minute or two? It shouldn’t really be out of the way,”

“Gimme the address and I’ll tell you if you’re right or not,”

“It’s a store called Honour. It’s on Lower Marsh,”

“Across the Thames?”

“Trust me, Mario, it’s worth it,”

**

The flight is two hours of Nick thinking about Niall and reading SkyMall. Not usually at the same time, but sometimes. He considers buying him an all-in-one bidet sprayer/toilet paper stand/iPad holder. Half because it’s funny, half because Niall would totally love it. He also considers buying Pig a talking dog collar, but considering her old one died of overuse, he thinks that was probably a sign to leave it be.

He lands in Milan and no one knows he’s there, or even recognizes him. It’s already a bit past 6 when the plane touches down, and by the time he gets out of the airport it’s reaching 7. Their fans on Twitter bloody know everything, so of course Nick figures out that the boys are staying at the Four Seasons with little fuss. The car takes him straight there, though a few extra minutes are added on considering the mind-blowing crowd that’s gathered in the small streets surrounding the hotel. As they drive through the throng of crying girls he tries his hardest to look the least like Nick Grimshaw as possible. He imagines that not too many people in this country know who he is because his show doesn’t air here, but some of them probably have had dirty thoughts about him fucking Harry and would absolutely explode if they knew he was there. Fucking idiots; they should know he’d go for the blonde.

He’s allowed into the lobby without much fuss, probably because he doesn’t scream or cry or look like he’d like to jump on Zayn’s dick. It’s once he’s inside that the last problem arises: he has no fucking clue where Niall is. Though he’s been allowed inside, he highly doubts that he’ll be allowed to wander all the halls quietly whispering Niall’s name. He doesn’t even know if the boys are in or not. Niall’s always seemed like one into a bit of sightseeing or a late dinner, or maybe he’s found himself a planetarium; all Nick knows is that he _doesn’t_ know. So he decides that it’s the perfect time to give up on the big surprise, and he shoots off a text to Niall before he can chicken out.

_Where can I meet you?_

_you mean when were back in London? haha_

_No I mean right now_

_in milan thats where we fucking are_

_Yes I know that. me too._

It takes ten minutes for Niall to respond and it makes a heavy weight settle in Nick’s chest.

_kidding?_

_no im at your hotel come get me or someone will recognize me soon_

_meet my bodyguard by the elevator. hell be the one with the big muscles that’s looking for u_

Nick smiles and stands awkwardly by the elevators, fidgeting because it’s been a long day and he’s tired and he wants a bed. Specifically, Niall’s. Before long, though, a certainly muscular guy exits an elevator and starts looking around.

“Looking for someone in particular?” he steps forwards and asks.

“Are you the Grim Reaper?” Of fucking course they’re using codenames, and Nick’s going to file a formal complaint about his.

“Yeah, you taking me upstairs for Señor Tricolour?”

The bodyguard grins and tilts his head towards the elevator so Nick follows him in. They go to the highest floor, and when they reach it Bodyguard just simply tells him “316” and walks down the other end of the hall. He finds it easily, considering it’s not a big hall, and he only has to knock once before Niall opens it.

“Holy _fuck_ you’re not kidding,” he yells, standing there like Nick’s a ghost. And he’s quite pale, but he’s not there yet.

“Oh, Niall, I take my booty calls incredibly seriously,”

Niall just laughs and pulls him into the room. Nick wants to kiss; Niall wants to talk.

“So, like, how the hell did this happen?”

“You called me last night and-”

“Yes, I remember that part. I don’t remember asking you to come all the fucking way to Italy,”

“It was all between the lines, really,”

And Niall’s about to respond when there’s a knock at the door and he (literally) shoves Nick into the closet, closing the door behind him. It’s a nice, roomy closet, but it’s still rude. There’s another person’s voice and a bit of movement. He places his ear against the door to try and hear who it is, but it’s a nice place and the walls are actually _thick_. Finally, Niall opens the door to let him out and he falls forward.

“What was that about, knobhead?”

“Room service,” Niall answers as he walks back through the room to where there’s food laid out on a desk, “Lobster bisque, lasagne, tiramisu to finish it off. Would’ve ordered you something except, you know, you’re not supposed to be here,”

“Were you gonna eat all this alone, then?”

“Nah, I was gonna head over to Harry’s, but now that you’re here I told him that I wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t make it. He offered to come over and rub my tummy, and I told him to fuck off,”

“So are you gonna delay the sex and make us eat first, then?”

Niall doesn’t respond, just steps forward, fists two hands in the front of Nick’s shirt, and gives a kiss as his confirmation.

**

They eat on the sofa because Nick has plans for the bed and none of them involve bits of lasagne left on the sheets. Niall’s quite good at sharing food, he even tries to feed Nick spoonfuls of bisque, but Nick’s forgone hunger in favour of impatience. By the time Niall’s licking the last remnants of dessert off his fork, Nick has already been imagining about fifteen thousand things he’d rather be doing at the moment. And only two of them involve tiramisu.

“Are you done, yet?” Nick whines, because _honestly_ he’s been good and patient watching Niall eat for the past hour.

“Why, are you late for something?”

Nick reaches his hand out to flick him in the ear, then hauls him into his lap with the same hand and starts snogging him senseless. Niall laughs into the kiss, giddy with a full belly and an entire night spread out in front of him, but as Nick curls out his tongue into his mouth, Niall pulls back.

“Wait, no, before we start you need to tell me why you’re here,” Niall demands, a pout on his face.

“Because you called-”

“Yes, we both went over that stupid phone call, but you didn’t need to fly to fucking Italy. So why did you?”

“Niall, _please_ , we can talk about this-”

“Right now,” Niall finishes for him, climbing off of Nick’s lap and returning to his old seat next to him, “Now, explain,”

“Fuck, whatever, we’ve been really shit at talking to one another and long-distance hasn’t been working out for us so I decided to take away the distance part of it. I mean, I’ve got money I can spend on a ticket to Milan and I’ve got a connection that lets me stay in his hotel room as long as he gets a blow job out of it. I mean, there’re really no downsides to it,”

Niall seems to consider something a bit, his brow furrowing and a small dimple becoming more prominent on his chin. Nick wants to poke it.

“Does anyone else know you’re here?”

“None of my friends do, and as far as I’m aware no one on Twitter does because I haven’t got Pixie ringing me asking me why the hell I’m in Italy without her. And Aimee’s looking after Pig, but I just told her that I was missing my mum and dad and wanted to go see them for the weekend. She’s always happy to get a bit more Pig in her life,”

Niall just stares at him for a few seconds more, which makes Nick oddly uncomfortable, but then a grin breaks out across his face.

“That was a lot of words to just say you missed me,”

“Well, that’s because I haven’t missed you. Pig has! She’s been a downright brat. Whining all the time, asking when you’ll be back. Can’t even let her go through the kitchen ‘cuz she’ll get into the wine. Pitiful little thing,”

“If you insist,” Niall laughs, then goes back to kissing.

But Nick does _not_ miss Niall, because they’ve only been doing this thing or whatever anyone wants to call it for a few weeks now, and he’s gone twenty-nine years of his life without missing Niall in it; he doesn’t know why he should start now. He repeats it in his head, as Niall climbs back into his lap, tugs at Nick’s bottom lip and laughs with short bursts of breath. As his hands fit perfectly at the back of his neck, tilting Nick’s head back so Niall can kiss along his jaw. A spot of warmth that Nick won’t think about.

Instead, he thinks about the paper bag he’s got in his carryon.

“Wait, shit,” he says as he pushes Niall off, “I’ve totally forgotten that I’ve brought you something,”

“A gift!” Niall’s face lights up, “Shit, and you’ve been hiding it from me?”

Nick gets him off his lap so he can go to bag, annoyed the entire way about how slow the evening’s been moving.

“Sorry, ‘s not wrapped,” _Bought it on the way to the airport._

He retrieves it from the inside of his bag, prays to God security didn’t get a glance of it on his way over, then hands it to Niall. The second the bag leaves his hand, he immediately regrets buying it in the first place.

“Oh” is the only thing Niall says at first, which Nick was expecting because there isn’t much to say when someone’s just gifted you a dildo. He sits down so he seems less dominating and waits for Niall to at least say something more. Instead, he just turns the box over in his hands as if looking for the sign that says “April Fools!” It’s not there, of course, because Nick is entirely, 100% serious. For possibly the first time in his life.

“It’s um, I thought maybe you’d like it? It’s not… you don’t have to use it. Or like it! You can throw it in the bin because this may be the worst gift I’ve ever given someone that wasn’t a gag. Like, a joke gag. You know,”

Niall looks up at him, his face no less confused and his eyes no less innocent. And Nick wonders if this is Niall’s first time ever holding one.

He’d spent a lot of time on choosing the right one, too. The shop had such a vast selection. All of different colours, sizes, materials. And he’d bought one that was really modest, honestly. If Nick had been trying to embarrass or shock Niall he’d have gone with the 10 incher made of sparkly, pink glass. The one he really did buy is much smaller and made out of rubber the colour of his skin. It was supposed to be thoughtful.

“You hate it. Oh my God, I’m such a knob. This is such a weird fucking thing to give someone, Christ,”

“Wait, Nick, I don’t hate it. It’s just very new. Really new. And honestly the last thing I expected to come out of that bag. Though, maybe I should have from you, eh?”

That hits Nick right in the gut because it’s not a joke. The dildo’s not a joke, and the trip to Milan’s not a joke, and this whole sex thing isn’t a joke. He just hopes to God that Niall doesn’t think he’s pulling one over on him.

“God, no, it’s not… It was just really something I thought you’d like. Because you were getting mopey and Harry had mentioned you were lonely-”

“Fucking Harry,”

“-And I thought maybe this would help? I know from experience that it can be kind of odd to get yourself off when you’ve had someone help, but sometimes, you know, this can help? God, the more I explain this the worse it sounds,”

“Nick, shut up, Christ. It’s… I’m not mad or weirded out, I promise. Just caught by surprise, is all. Wasn’t quite expecting this. Any of this, really. It’s a lot to process!”

“I know,” Nick huffs. He leans over and rests his head on Niall’s shoulder, “Are you sure you’re okay with this all? I’m not crossing a line, am I?”

Niall turns his head to kiss Nick’s forehead, pressing one small peck after another into his hairline. “I would’ve got Bas to take care of you if that were the case. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Nick laughs and leans up so he can kiss Niall’s neck. Niall relaxes back into the sofa, one hand coming up to cup Nick’s face while the other puts his gift down on the table.

“If you don’t mind, I don’t really want to use it tonight. Since I’ve got you here and everything,”

“Of course,” Nick mumbles. He slithers off the couch and pushes the coffee table back with one foot, settling between Niall’s legs. He reaches up to grab the waistband of Niall’s basketball shorts, because they’re awful and Nick’s been wondering all night what they’d look like balled up on the ground.

**

“Fucking hell!” is what Nick wakes up to. Which is about the rudest awakening he could’ve imagined. He blinks his eyes open slowly to find Louis standing at the edge of the bed with Zayn not far behind. And he tries to figure out why One Direction are the subjects of so many of his dreams, before he looks down to find Niall sleeping on his chest. Which he when he remembers.

“Holy shit!” he screams, trying to sit up. It’s a little hard with Niall’s dead weight across him, but the movement stirs him awake too. Once he notices their newly-gathered audience (standing there silent and gawking) he sits up cursing as well.

“Oh is Niall finally up!” Harry yells, coming into the room. Stopping dead in his tracks and joining the other two with agape expressions. Nick and Niall, for their part, just try to look as not-naked as possible. Everyone knows, of course, but it helps to ease the tension if the sleepover at least looks innocent.

“So,” Nick starts with a clap, “How’s everyone this morning,”

Louis just cracks a wide smile, and it’s suddenly Nick’s least favourite sight in the entire world.

“So this is a thing now, then?” Louis says, and he sounds so excited it’s almost angry, “Niall and Nick is a thing? Harry did you know about this thing? Because I didn’t know about this thing!”

“It’s not a thing,” Niall explains lowly. Though it does quite look like a thing, if you squint.

“Oh, is it not? Because no one knew Nick was coming along, and we sure as hell didn’t know he’d be bunking in your bed. Was the hotel booked? Was it supposed to be a surprise for us all?”

“Lou,” Harry interrupts, grabbing his arm and pulling him back, “Lay off of them. You’re sounding kinda bitter,”

“I’m just! Nick and Niall and lying in a bed together! Is this not something to freak out about?”

Zayn leans forward to stare down Harry, “So did you know about this then?”

“Um, well, I knew they were… I knew more than you guys. But I didn’t know this much! I didn’t know Nick’d be here! Honest,”

“Okay, listen,” Niall finally interrupts, “It’s just… fun. Okay? We’re just hanging out-”

“Naked! In bed!” Louis yells.

“Yes, Lou, we’ve got that down, thank you. I don’t know, you guys are acting like it’s a big deal. You know I like guys, Nick’s a guy. Boom. Done deal,”

Everyone’s quiet for a blessed second, and Nick’s about to ask everyone but Niall to leave when Zayn speaks up.

“So, you’re happy and all?”

Nick nearly chokes, “Christ, this isn’t a ‘if you hurt him we have to kill you’ talk, is it?”

Louis laughs, “What’d you expect from us? We’re practically his brothers and his dad’s not here right now,”

The three of them smile and laugh, try and look the least weirded out by the situation as possible. Niall doesn’t.

“Please, just leave. We can talk about this, later,” Niall says then, staring them all down with a firm clench in his jaw. One by one they leave, Harry being the last out the door.

“We’re talking about this immediately later, though, because if anyone should be kept in the loop it’s me,” Which is about as angry as either of them would expect him to get.

Nick, for his part, just groans and flops back on the bed as soon as they’re gone.

“Fucking hell!” he screams, “You know, I’d been going over all the ways this weekend could go. I was thinking maybe getting Harry in on it, tell him to cover for us, just say that I’m coming to visit him. Or maybe just literally hole ourselves up in here for all this time. That… was awkward as fuck,”

Niall remains sitting, playing with a loose string on the duvet cover. Nick doesn’t have any time for that, so he pulls on his closest hand until he’s falling back on the pillows too.

“You need to talk. Tell me how you feel,” Nick says sternly, because he knows what it’s like to be twenty and in your first real Thing with a guy, and it goes a lot easier if you don’t sit there ignoring everyone.

“It went really shit is how I feel,”

“It wasn’t that bad. I mean, how well was Louis _ever_ going to take this?”

“Yeah, but,” Niall starts then stops, huffier than Nick’s ever seen him, “I would’ve been okay if Lou had been an arse about and I had chosen to tell him. Not to mention, if it was just me then he’d be a lot more understanding. But since you were here it just turns his knob-ness up to critical levels. He likes to push your buttons.

Nick laughs, “I’ve noticed, actually,”

“It’s not a big deal, I guess. Louis’ll mock me about it for a few days, but then Liam’ll slip and fall or Harry will fall asleep with his mouth open and we’ll hang paper clips off his lips and the attention will be shifted. He runs really hot and cold sometimes. It’s not a big deal,”

He stops talking so Nick scoots over and hugs him over his shoulders, burying deep into the crook between his neck and the pillow under his head and breathing in deep.

“Why did they come in anyways?”

“Oh, my phone was off and they wanted me to get up I suppose. I think we have some interviews today, so I don’t think I’ll be much fun,”

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” he tickles his lips over Niall’s ears, “Do you need to get up then?”

Niall nods so Nick rolls off him. He gets out of bed naked as the day he was born and heads into the bathroom. It’s then, that Nick remembers.

“Oh. My. God,” he says, each word low and drawn out, “The dildo! The dildo was still out! Do you think they saw it?”

Niall pokes his head out of the bathroom, a toothbrush stuck in the middle of his lips and foam around the edges. Much to Nick’s dismay, he nods.

“Oh yeah, Zayn was staring at it the whole time,”

When Niall pops back in to spit, Nick throws himself back onto the bed and covering himself with the blanket. It’s now, truly, that he regrets that gift.

**

Paul visits him thirty minutes after the others had, just as the two of them are trying to dig into their room service breakfasts. It’s not as if Nick’s strapped for cash, but Niall seems to buy anything on the menu without taking a look at the price tag or the calorie content, and Nick’s damn jealous.

There’re a few rules placed on him, courtesy of the 1D Management team. He’s not allowed to leave the hotel until he’s going to the airport, unless, of course, he feels like having thousands of teen girls know he’s there. Both he and Niall agree they don’t. He’s also not allowed to wander the hotel, not that he has to stay exactly in Niall’s room, but they don’t want to have to mind him. Nick tries to remind Paul that he’s 29 years old with a mortgage and a degree under his belt, he can mind himself thank you, but Paul looks big and dad-like and like someone he doesn’t want to mess with.

Niall does, in fact, have interviews, and straight after breakfast he leaves Nick alone in the room. It’s not like Nick isn’t capable of keeping himself company, but hotel rooms (even giant ones rented for fucking popstars) can grow small. He watches a lot of telly, but half of it is in Italian and half of what’s in English is boring, so he falls asleep thirty minutes into a romantic thriller with subtitles that give him a headache.

All of the boys return for lunch, which he’s more than happy for. Harry, Niall, and he eat a dine-in picnic on the floor of Harry’s room, where Niall and he fill Harry in on, well, everything. Harry doesn’t hear too much, because Nick has boundaries for God’s sake, but enough so that he doesn’t have to walk around all doe-eyed anymore, ignorant to what his two best friends are up to. When Niall runs off to the loo, he pulls Nick into a hug and tells him he loves him. Which is very Harry.

The show that night is at eight so they have to leave much earlier than that for sound check and all the other music things they do. Nick knows he agreed to the rules, but he pouts at Paul all the same. Louis walks by and tells him that his mouth’s big enough without the additional immaturity, so Nick stretches his leg out and trips him. He lands with a satisfactory _plunk_ on the carpeted hallway. Niall laughs, and surprisingly doesn’t yell at Nick. Which twists something deep in his heart.

He isn’t allowed to go, though. Which isn’t surprising, but is still disappointing.

So he decides to be a rich, mopey bastard for the remainder of the afternoon. He orders dessert and a massage for after the spa closes, and before the nice lady who’s going to unknot the muscles from his back arrives he’s able to get in a nice bath in the humongous tub they’ve got. He keeps his sunglasses on as she works at his shoulders, and he knows she undoubtedly finds it weird, but she says nothing.

When Niall finally gets back, Nick’s lounging on the bed reading a copy of Vogue Italia and feeling more relaxed than he has in months. But then Niall waltzes in, wearing a maroon vest and jeans tighter than the legal limit, and the only thing he can concentrate on is how to get his heart rate back down.

“Hey, popstar! How was the show?” he calls out as Niall immediately heads to the bathroom. Niall yells back, “Hot and sweaty! Gonna wash off a bit!”

Nick idly wonders what sort of boundaries would be crossed if he followed him in, and decides against it in favour of laying the magazine down on his chest and resting his eyes. It seems like Niall takes forever to shower though, and Nick keeps on getting distracted by the bumps and bangs he hears coming from the direction of the bathroom. He’s considering going in and checking on the kid when, finally, the sound of rushing water stops and the only noise in the room comes from the screaming fans outside.  And the next thing he knows, the magazine is moved and replaced with a sopping wet Niall.

“Hello, there,” Nick says. He pulls his arms around Niall’s back and is pleased to find he’s forgone pants, “How was the shower?”

Niall’s bright smile is in his face, and he wastes no time stretching forward to kiss Nick silent. Which is one way to answer that, yes. He grabs onto Nick’s bicep, to steady himself licking into his mouth with the fervour that Nick’s hook-ups usually save for a little later in the night. But Harry’s told him about the adrenaline they get after concerts, and how it can take a while for them to come down from it. And, God, there just isn’t anything Nick can think about but fucking it out of him.

He decides to roll them over, to pin Niall to the bed and take the upper hand. It’s then, that Niall pulls away.

“Don’t laugh,” he starts.

Nick’s just going to ask about what when he continues, “I want you to eat me out,”

And, well, Nick laughs through about 80% of his life and he couldn’t stop now if he tried. He rolls over on the bed, alternating through short bursts of laughter and saying “Oh my God!” a little too loudly. But, honestly, who could blame him?

“I told you not to laugh,” Niall whines. He’s lying on his stomach now, a grumpy scowl hidden in the mattress.

“No, no, Niall. It’s not… I just. If anyone had asked to guess what you would ask me in that moment it would _not_ be that,”

“Why not?”

“You seem… that’s a very new thing to try, don’t you think?”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. It was just a suggestion, is all,”

“Oh Niall,” Nick rolls over to get closer to him. He starts rubbing circles at the top of Niall’s spine with one finger and can feel goose bumps raise across the spread of his back, “Of course I can do that for you. I’m serious, I’m not joking,”

Niall’s quiet for a second, and it’s not the first time Nick’s gigantic fucking mouth has gotten him in trouble in bed.

“I’m still up for it if you are,” he says quietly.

“Please, Niall, there’s nothing more I love than eating boys out,” he nudges at Niall’s cheek to get him to roll on his side so he can burrow his face in the crevice of Niall’s shoulder, “It seems weird, but there’s nothing better than having someone fall apart on your tongue. It’s different than with a blow job. More intimate, more sensitive. And, God, it can get so loud. You aren’t afraid the other boys will hear?”

Nick stops for a second to pull back and assess the damage. Niall’s eyes are screwed shut, his breath coming in short stutters.

“No, it’s okay,” he breathes out after a few moments, and Nick grins knowing that it’s already starting to work.

“We need to get you cleaned up, is that alright?”

 “No, we don’t. I did that in the shower,”

Nick quirks an eyebrow at that.

“You were expecting me to say yes, were you?”

“And you did, so get on with it,”

“Your wish is my command, your majesty,” Nick says before grabbing onto Niall’s waist and rolling him over to his front, pulling on his hips until they leave the mattress and he’s perched on his hands and knees.

He runs off the bed, taking his joggers off as he goes, and grabs the lube from his bag.

“You just tell me if anything is weird or too much, alright?”

“You’re licking my arse, of course it’s weird. Please get on with it,”

“Mouthy,” Nick chastises, sending a quick pat to Niall’s bottom in reprimand.

Niall’s arse looks so lovely like this; perky, pale, and shivering slightly in the cool of the room, a spot of red blooming where Nick had only playfully tapped him. Nick regrets shaving earlier that morning, wondering idly what a sight Niall’s skin would be with a bit of stubble burn thrown in. But it’s as he settles himself between Niall’s knees, placing one hand on each cheek in front of him, that the weight of the situation hits him. He hasn’t been this worried since his own first time, and it’d kill him if he did something to ruin Niall’s first time getting rimmed. He decides to swallow down all the nervous energy and just go at it.

He starts softly, with a kiss to the bottom of Niall’s spine. Just low enough to be a tease, yet still normal enough. Slowly, he goes lower and lower with each kiss, until he’s close enough to lick at Niall’s rim with his tongue.

At the first touch, Niall starts whining. And as Nick keeps going, flattening his tongue against the tense pucker of Niall’s skin and pursing his lips, the sounds continue. It’s the loudest Nick’s ever heard him, moaning without thought with little breaks of Nick’s name thrown in. He sounds wrecked, debauched, and he keeps shoving his hips back into Nick’s face. Nick has to grab a hold of his waist to get him to calm down.

He only takes a few minutes to let go, for Nick’s tongue to finally peek past his rim. Nick licks in eagerly, the sounds he makes forcing blood to go to his cheeks. Niall pays no attention, though, only getting louder and needier with each passing second. He slams his right hand into the headboard, grasping onto the top of it with white knuckles.

When Nick’s finally able to slip the tip of his finger in, licking around it with finesse now that his confidence’s caught up, he can feel Niall get a hand around himself. Nick knocks the hand away with his free one and starts jerking him off roughly. It’s a horrible angle but Niall whines all the same, and with a few strokes Niall’s already coming and falling into the mattress with a defeated _thump_.

Nick pulls back and takes a second to let his eyes rake over Niall’s body on the bed below him, panting and sweaty with his legs falling wherever they land. He rubs his hands up the back of his thighs and Niall shivers at the contact, turning around to finally get a good look at Nick’s face.

“You missing something?” he asks.

He looks down to see that his cock’s hard and red and standing untouched against his stomach. Niall rolls over with a smirk and opens up his legs for Nick to crawl between. He buries his face in Niall’s neck as he pulls him off, breathing hot and heavy against the freckles there, and he comes with a strangled grunt and the beginning of an expletive on his tongue. They lay in silence for a while, until Niall finally breaks it.

“I’m gonna miss you after tomorrow,”

The words fall easily from Nick’s mouth, more than he ever thought they would.

“Yeah, me too,”

**

 Aimee drops by an hour after Nick rings her on the way home from the airport. It’s dark by the time she gets there and she’s got both Pig and Thurston with her, all three jogging happily down the street. He welcomes her in with a warm hug and Pig gives him enough ‘welcome home’ kisses to last the night, but when he turns around to ask Aimee if she’d like a glass of wine, her face looks ready to kill.

“What? What did I do now?”

“You weren’t at your parents’,”

And, well, shit.

“What do you mean? ‘Course I was,”

“No, you weren’t. I rang you on Saturday night and you didn’t answer so I called ‘round your parents’ place and was promptly informed that they were enjoying a wonderful, Nick-free weekend,”

He hadn’t expected to be caught in this so soon. Milan had gone well; no one had seen him (as far as he knew) and he’d gotten a few orgasms out of the deal. Louis gave him shit, but Louis always gave him shit so there wasn’t anything different there. Aimee, though, has never looked this disappointed.

“I know you have a boy, Nicky,” she continues, “I know it’s something you’re trying to keep hidden from even me for _whatever_ reason, but don’t lie to me. What if I needed to reach you because something was wrong with Pig and you didn’t answer your cell? I wouldn’t even know where to begin!”

“That was shit of me, okay. I just… it’s so hard to explain,”

“Is it hard or uncomfortable or what? Are you embarrassed of him? I can’t for the life of me imagine why you wouldn’t even tell me you’ve gone to see the bloke,”

“I just… it seemed easier that way? I don’t know, Aims, I’m a dick. I’m sorry,”

“But you’re alright, yeah? You’re not hiding this because it’s… bad, yeah?”

“He’s just famous, is all. And not out,”

She gives him The Look again.

“And, no. It’s not Harry, I promise,” he continues.

She seems happy that he feels like shit, and even happier to know it’s a fine deal, but he still feels a pang of guilt in his chest that he won’t tell her. She’s his best friend, closer to her than almost anyone else he’s ever loved. He’s never really talked about this with Niall, but they did basically tell all of his mates and half of who they work with over the weekend. He supposes that if there’s anyone who he could tell, it would be her.

“Do you promise not to tell?” he says softly, almost so quiet that Aimee barely hears it.

“Of course, Nicky, I won’t tell a soul. I’ll go lock Thurston in the spare room so he won’t even hear if you want,”

“It’s… oh, God, don’t laugh. It’s not Harry, it’s Niall,”

Aimee stares at him for a few seconds, face half frozen in a sort of confused scowl.

“Oh my God, you’re not laughing. You’re not taking the piss outta me?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous. I was in Milan, in the Four Seasons, sharing a bed with Niall Horan. Of One Direction fame,”

She scratches her head, like she still can’t believe it. And he guesses he hasn’t had the best track record with being serious, but God, she can usually read him.

“The little, blonde, Irish one?”

“Fuck’s sake, Aimee, don’t pretend you don’t know all the members of 1D by heart. Yes, that one,”

“I literally, in a million years, would never have guessed it would be him. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude, but _Niall_?”

“Yes, Niall, what the bloody hell is wrong with him?”

“Nothing! He’s just not your type,”

“What the hell _is_ my type? Everyone keeps saying that,”

“Everyone? Who else knows?”

“Well, Harry started it. And it was kinda hard to keep it a secret from his mates since they walked in on us naked under the covers. Sleeping, but naked nonetheless,”

She walks towards him at that, pulling him into one of her greater hugs.

“Nick, are you happy?” she whispers, swaying them back on forth on her tippy toes.

“Of course,” he replies easily, “But it’s not like, a big thing. We’ve only been doing it for a little under three weeks. And it’s just… hook-ups, you know. He’s a bloody popstar circumventing the world and I’m stuck in a radio booth in London.  And it’s his first foray into men, so if you could _really_ not say anyth-”

“Nick!” she squeaks, hitting him on the shoulder, “You know I wouldn’t dare tell anyone without your (and his) blessing,”

“Thanks,” he says, pulling back to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“But it’s not a thing? You went to Milan for a guy and it’s not a thing?”

“We’re rich; booty calls know no boundaries,”

“At least tell me he’s a good lay,”

Nick smiles and turns away to finally pour that (large) glass of wine, “Fucking fantastic,”

**

They’re finally better at communicating after, too, which is nice. Niall still sucks at texting, but he’s a fiend on Snapchat and hardly an hour goes by without Nick getting a pic of Harry getting stuck in a headscarf or a beer stein in Germany or one of Niall’s many, varied ‘flirty faces’. At night he even gets a dick pic or two, which is always nice. And Nick’s never been happier for the auto-delete.

He is surprised when he comes home from dinner out to a text from Niall that simply reads _whatre u doing tonite._

_watchin gogglebox with pig. dear god please tell me this isn’t milan pt 2_

_nah just you wanna skype?_

And, boy, does Nick ever.

He gets his laptop up and running in record time and Niall texts him his name (CrokerJoker09, which Nick is saving to make fun of at a later time) and he waits the agonizing twenty-one seconds for their video to connect.

“Grimmy!” is the first thing Nick hears, though the video’s still lagged. And by the time it’s caught up Niall is sitting on a couch in a beautiful hotel room wearing no top except a bath towel draped around his neck.

“Hey, bud, how’s the country in Europe that you’re currently in?”

“Germany. Just got done with a show, it was mental,”

“That’s great. Wanna say hi to Pig?”

“’Course, yeah!”

So Nick goes and grabs Pig and brings her to his laptop. She barks at Niall, but overall seems uninterested. Niall, though, loves her like any other day of the week and tells her she’s the prettiest girl at least ten times. Eventually she squirms enough that Nick lets her run off to play with a chew toy he bought her as an apology for leaving.

“Is there a reason you called or are you just missing my ugly mug?”

“I actually,” Niall starts, and Nick notices he’s squirming and avoiding looking Nick in the eye, “I wanted to try something. But you can’t laugh,”

“I’m not trying to be rude, Love, but every time you tell me not to laugh it increases my desire to laugh tenfold,”

“Shut up,” Niall smirks before reaching behind the laptop and pulling out the… _oh_.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he starts, innocuously rolling the dildo between his hands, “I was just thinking… in the shower this morning. About you and your fingers and how _good_ they feel inside of me. I know I said I didn’t want to use it earlier when you were here, but that’s what this is really for, right? When you’re gone?”

It takes Nick’s brain a second to click on, to register that Niall’s asked him a question and is expecting an answer. Because it’s tough to think when there’s a fit boy in another country asking if he could fuck himself on a dildo for you. “Yeah, Babe, you wanna use it?”

Niall stops and thinks for a second, staring down at it in his hands, before nodding.

“If you don’t mind helping me along,” he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and finally, finally, looks Nick straight in the eye.

“Of course, Babe. I would love to. Love to hear you’re thinking about me, too. Wish I could be there to do the honours myself,”

 “How do you want me to do it, then?”

And, oh, Niall’s never been one to really ask before. He’s always looked for a bit of guidance, but he’s never needed Nick’s blessing for what to do.

“Anything you want, Darling. You can do on your hands and knees or just sitting there. I’d love it either way,”

“Okay, I think I like hands and knees,”

“Wait, pause,” Nick says suddenly, “I need to put Pig away, she can’t see this,” He runs off to get her and her things settled in the guest room before giving her a belly pat as an apology and running back to the living room. There, he finds Niall on the screen naked and grabbing lube from the couch. Jesus Christ, Nick’s never wanted to teleport so bad.

“Look at you, gorgeous. Little eager thing,”

He must take Niall by surprise because he whips his head around and turns pink when he notices Nick’s there again.

“You gon’ get your kit off or do you wanna look like a perv?” Niall asks and _oh_ , Nick hadn’t even noticed, really. He gets his sweats off in record time, though, and when he settles on the couch again Niall got himself propped in with his bum angled straight to the camera and is pouring lube over his fingers.

One finger circles his rim carefully, and Nick so wishes he could be there in person to feel the heat of Niall’s skin and hear the little hitches in his breath as he finally pushes the finger in. It slides in easily, and he adds another one after only a few moments. Which is when it all clicks in Nick’s head.

“Did you get started without me?” he asks. He’s trying for anger, but it probably fails because he can hardly imagine something hotter than Niall fingering himself alone, in anticipation for Nick getting to see it.

“Yeah,” he coughs and wriggles around, teasing his own third finger, “Just couldn’t wait. Wanted to be ready for you,”

“Fuck, were you thinking about me? When you were opening yourself up?”

Niall quiets for a few moments before he continues, “Yeah. I had three fingers in me, just like now. All I could think of how you had three fingers in me back in your flat. And they felt so much bigger, so much better,”

That’s a lot for Nick to hear, and he pushes the heel of his palm against his dick. He’s growing hard just at Niall’s words, but he needs to last. Wants to come at the same time as Niall, wants it to feel real.

“Three fingers? Is that all you were thinking of?”

Niall shakes his head but it’s hard to see from the angle of the camera, “No, I was thinking of you opening me up with your fingers. And then, your cock inside of me. Taking me from behind, fuck, Nick,”

He starts whining and his legs go shaky. Nick doesn’t want this to end without the main attraction, so he tries to get his attention again.

“Niall, babe,” he calls out, Niall turns back to face him, “I think you’re stretched. Wanna try it now?”

Niall nods and withdraws his finger, squirming a bit at the emptiness. But he’s quicker than Nick expects as he grabs the dildo from next to him and lubes it up, returning to his spot on the couch.

“Go slow,” Nick says with a quiet voice, because he’s been feigning confidence since the call started and he doesn’t know how much longer that’ll last.

Niall listens and starts pushing in so slow that it almost pains Nick to see. But he knows it’s Niall’s first time and that he definitely wouldn’t want him to go any faster and risk hurting himself.

“Turn your face, Love,” Nick says, half because he wants to be sure Niall’s alright and half because if he can’t kiss Niall as he comes he sure as hell at least wants to see him. His eyes are bright and wide when they meet Nick’s, his lips frozen in an ‘o’. Finally, as the toy’s seated as far as Niall wants to let it go, he closes his eyes and a shudder rips through him.

“Move when you want,” Nick offers, “Feel out what’s right for you. Just want you to feel good, don’t worry about me,”

It takes a while, both for Niall to work up the nerve to get it going and for him to find what works best, but when it finally all clicks together it’s the most beautiful sight Nick’s ever seen. He works up a rhythm that fits just right, sliding the toy into him while bouncing on it at the same time. And, God, the sight of him would be enough to render anyone useless. The glint of his skin off the soft light of the table lamp, the line of his ribs as they poke through his side, the small hint of cock that Nick can see with every bounce.

The sounds that he makes, too, are enough to drive Nick insane. The slick of his skin mixed with the high-pitched whines that are nearly ripped out of him. And, fuck, Nick wishes he would’ve sprung for the vibrator. If Niall’s this loud normally, he couldn’t imagine the scene he could create with just a bit more movement.

“Can I?” Niall asks quickly, his face ducked back into the crook of his elbow before Nick can get a good look at the blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Can you what?” he answers back, trying to hide how breathless he sounds already.

“Fuckin… jack myself off,”

“Fuck, yeah,” is all Nick can say before he speeds up the slow strokes he’s been using ever since Niall started. Something faster, with more intent. It’s not the best handjob he’s ever given himself, but he supposes the view’s better now.

Niall gets a hand on himself but doesn’t keep up with the dildo. He drops it, instead, and turns to face Nick. His chest heaving and sweaty, flush evident all over his body. He pulls himself off without finesse, come striping his chest quickly. His sounds, his little grunts and whines that Nick’s stored away for lonely occasions, are what push Nick over the edge, coming into his enclosed hand.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, coming down from their orgasms three-hundred miles apart. When Nick finally gathers himself up, wiping his own cum into a Kleenex, he looks back to Niall to see him smiling that toothy, devilish smile.

“Fucking best present ever, I tell you,” he says, before letting out a string of breathy laughs.

Nick, for his part, is speechless.

**

Not too long after is when Nick starts doing the unthinkable and counting down the days until Niall’s back. He’s never even done that with Harry, though he counts him as one of his best friends and misses him dearly when he’s gone away, but it’s a little different with Niall. It probably has something to do with the nakedness of their relationship, and while it’s usually hard to keep Harry in his clothes they’ve never done anything like him and Niall have.

One Direction’s at the end of the European leg now; they’re going through the southern part of the continent – hitting Italy, Spain, Portugal. All of the pictures and video clips Niall sends Nick show more palm trees than evergreen forests, more beaches than mountains. He sends Nick a snapchat from centre stage in Porto with the caption “last one, baby!”. Nick sends him back a pic of Pig baring her teeth at a mail carrier on the telly in the morning, but it goes unanswered as he must be out living the crazy Popstar Life with parties and drinking and endless amounts of food, or whatever else the lot of them do together.

And then Niall’s back, before Nick can even blink and breathe and clean up his flat. Pig must sense his return to the island because she starts to perk up, he even swears she starts staring at the door waiting for Niall to walk in. Which is ridiculous, but he’s always pegged Pig to be smarter than other dogs.

He doesn’t walk through the door, is the thing; he doesn’t even call. Doesn’t even send Nick a text or a fucking snapchat announcing his return to the country. Nick’d even doubt if the band was back were it not for Harry visiting the day he lands, coming into his flat for the first time in almost a month with a giant hug and a bag full of goodies he’d snuck over from the continent.

They don’t talk about Niall, which Nick does purposefully so that he can at least try to appear to be interested in the inane stories Harry always accumulates on tour. But when Harry sleeps over and wakes up with nothing more to tell, well, you can’t blame Nick for sneaking a word in.

“So how’s Niall getting along?” he asks as he cooks them both some eggs and bacon. Harry’s wrapped in a duvet and sitting at the kitchen table like he’s on death’s door step, when in reality he’s just got hay fever from being in England for the first time in weeks.

“Eh, he’s doing pretty well I think. Got all cheery after you visited. Kept on running off after shows and we wouldn’t see him until the next morning,” Nick’s cheeks pink up at that, “And he changed the passcode on his phone and didn’t tell any of us. We stopped trying to guess what he was being sent after that,”

“Didn’t tell me he was coming back, though,”

Harry shrugs, “Probably just assumed you knew, I guess. Seemed pretty excited to get back here, and I doubt it had much to do with his own flat,”

So Nick gives him time, to reacquaint to non-touring life and get rid of whatever jetlag comes from a two-hour flight, but by Thursday he’s antsy and lonely and Pig just _won’t_ stop whining so he rings Niall up before he can talk himself out of it. He expects to get his voicemail or really anything other than Niall cheerily answering with a drawn-out “Grimmy!”

“Oh, Niall!” Nick answers back, sounding more surprised than happy, “You there?”

“Why’dya ring if you didn’t think I would answer?”

“Just, you know, you hadn’t said anything you got back,”

“Been busy and all. Went to Ireland for two days to see my baby nephew, grew like a weed, and caught up with some old friends. M’back in town now, though, if that’s what you were wondering,”

It was, and Nick’s ecstatic he doesn’t have to try and fumble his way through asking that question.

“Good to hear you made it all the way back safely and everything. Would’ve been better to hear that two days ago but, you know, I’m not bitter,”

“Shut up,” Niall laughs, and then they talk about literally anything and everything for the next two hours. Niall’s life has obviously been a bit more entertaining lately but he still demands to hear everything about Nick, too. Like how he ate pastrami for the first time in twenty years the other day and that Pig has grown a liking to chasing after laser pointers. And before Nick knows it, it’s his bed time and Niall’s yawning just as much as him. Right when he’s about to hang up and go to bed as Niall-less as the day before, Niall interrupts.

“By the way, was thinking of watching a movie tomorrow night. Wanna come over?”

Nick’s never said yes so embarrassingly fast in his life.

**

Niall texts him the details in the morning, which basically consist of the time (8pm), the location (his house, that Nick’s never been to), and the movie ( _Almost Famous_ ). At work he tries not to get distracted, but everyone picks up on it and makes fun of the way he can barely remember the name of a song even after he’s just played it. Aimee’s the only one who could possibly know why, though, and she’s been blessedly quiet.

Pig helps him pick out his outfit that night. They try to come up with the clothing combination that best gets across both “I’ve missed you” and “Wanna fuck?”. And though Pig recommends a blue and red flannel button down, the slobber spot she leaves on it makes him go with a simple grey t-shirt and skinny jeans. He leaves a set of keys with his neighbour’s eleven-year-old daughter so she can take care of Pig for the night, then hits the road.

It takes a little over a half hour for Nick to get there because Niall lives in bloody Hertfordshire and that’s a good ways away from Primrose Hill. He only gets lost twice, too. And when he finally gets there, Nick has to figure out how the fuck to get in. There doesn’t seem to be any room to park (and he doesn’t quite feel like parking on the street anyways), and he’s about to call Niall’s cell when there’s a short buzzing sound and a large, wooden fence opens up to reveal a drive inside. He parks his car behind a black range rover, and rings the doorbell. What he isn’t expecting, though is-

“Harry?” he screeches, his voice going a little higher than normal.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Harry greets him, patting Nick on the hip, dressed only in a pair of pants.

“You are… not Niall,” Nick says as Harry welcomes him into Niall’s house.

“Good job, Nick, you’ve finally remembered the name of one of your conquests,”

Nick gives him a quick kick in the ass for that, but he stops talking completely when he enters Niall’s living room.

He doesn’t really know what he was expecting; probably mismatched furniture from Ikea and beer bottles decorating the window sills. He wasn’t expecting the _clean_ , _put together_ , _decorated_ home he walks into, though. The living room is nicely arranged around a large tv (which is, okay, not surprising) and there are guitars hung on the wall with a drum kit in the corner below them (again, maybe not that surprising). But it’s just so nice, like straight out of a magazine. At first glance you’d never imagine it’d belong to Niall, if not for the One Direction memorabilia that adorn the shelves around the fireplace.

“Did he do this for me?” Nick asks.

“What? Buy a house?”

“No! It’s so… nice. It’s so clean. Did he hire someone to do it?”

“Niall would never hire someone to keep after him; Bobby’d probably kill him for wasting money on that. He’s just a neat guy,”

“You’re joking,”

“No, you should’ve seen him on the X Factor. There were a few times there where he literally yelled at Louis to clean up after himself. Can you imagine anyone yelling at Louis, much less little, infatuated Niall? He’s an organized little man,”

“Whatcha talking about?” Niall yells as he enters the room suddenly.

Nick doesn’t know where he came from, but he looks all soft and cuddly in a white tank and sleep shorts and Nick can’t remember anything beyond the scent of his cologne.

“Just… your house. It’s really nice, I like it,”

“Innit?” Niall places his hands on his hips and stares around the room, “Like it a lot. I would have us watch the movie out in the garden but I think it’s gonna storm later,”

“You have a TV in your garden?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “Don’t you?”

“You know full well I don’t. No one should!”

“You should see his Derby room,” Harry says with a smug smirk and a childishly evil glint in his eye. That gets him a punch in the arm.

“Shut up, Harold. Anyways, you two go sit down. I’ll be back in a minute, yeah?” Niall says before leaving and going towards what Nick assumes is the kitchen.

Harry flops against the sofa, covering himself with a throw so he can stare at the sports programme on the telly without shivering. Nick decides instead to take a stroll through the One Direction Museum, looking at everything Niall has accumulated and consequently deemed important enough to warrant a spot. All of his Moon Men are on display alongside a few other awards that Nick can’t name. He’s got a record of their first number one and even a picture of the lot of them jumping in suits and looking like baby James Bonds.

Niall comes back from the kitchen then and places a plate of some food Nick can’t name on the table; a large departure from the diet of chips and pizza that he had assumed Niall has. They look like little fried balls of dough with delicious-looking bits stuck in them, and they smell even better than they look.

“We can start in a sec, just have to get the washer runnin’,” he says before rushing out of the room again. Nick just looks over to see Harry sniggering in his seat.

“What? Did he spit in ‘em or summat?”

“Nothing,” Harry says, but Nick doesn’t even need to goad him into elaborating before he continues, “It’s just… he made them for you himself. Like they’re not frozen or take-out or anything,”

“Really?” Nick grabs one of the balls and rips a piece off, putting it in his mouth and immediately tasting cheese and onions and beer.

“Yeah, took him like an hour. The book only said it’d take 30 minutes but he kept on spilling stuff and he had to change his shirt three times because he spilt butter and shit on all of them. But you don’t know that. It’s a secret,”

“Oh?” Nick’s eyebrows rise up of their own accord as he takes another piece.

“He’s got this book from Jamie Oliver and he treats it like a food bible, but of course it took someone who’s known you a little longer to drop a hint that you went to America a year back and drunkenly ate hushpuppies every night for a week and a half,”

And, shit, that’s why they seem so familiar to him. He’s about to try and say something else when Niall returns from the kitchen and goes over to the TV to press play (“I lost the remote about two months back and haven’t arsed myself to order a new one yet”) and returns to settle himself on the right side of the sofa. Harry’s laying on the lounge on the left part, three pillows surrounding him and a throw draped over his basically naked body. The kid likes to take up space.

Nick decides to sit exactly in the middle of the both of them, and if he accidentally lands a little more to Niall’s side, well, that’s an accident.  

Harry, in true Harry fashion, falls asleep five minutes in. Nick’s just proud of him for making it past the opening credits, honestly. And the movie continues without him in awkwardness, because if fucking Harry hadn’t been there in the first place Nick would’ve gotten into Niall’s pants the moment he walked into the door. He loves _Almost Famous_ as much as the next guy who had a crush on Russell Hammond when he was fifteen, but he’d give up any movie for the chance to snog Niall’s face off. He can’t do it, though, not with Harry quietly snoring a foot away from him.

Niall leans forward a few minutes after Harry falls asleep and pops one of his hushpuppies into his mouth, turning back towards Nick to ask if he wants one. Nick extends his hand, but Niall ignores him and feeds one straight to Nick’s mouth. He thumbs the crumbs off the corners of Nick’s lips then settles back against the sofa, much closer to Nick than he had been originally.

And if Nick hadn’t been able to concentrate before, all hope is gone with Niall pressed up against his side. Niall’s fidgety and bored, only lasting a few minutes more until he starts paying more attention to Nick than anything else.

“You’re not paying attention to the movie,” he whispers as Niall starts biting at the edge of his sleeve. Niall, assuming the role of Pig, looks up at him with innocent eyes and a mean pout.

“You’re not paying attention to _me_ ,”

“I’m here to watch a movie, Love, did you forget?”

“No,” Niall shakes his head back and forth, rubbing his nose against Nick’s bicep, “you’re here to snog me senseless,”

Nick moves his arm around to Niall’s shoulders, slipping easily back towards the cushion. It’s only so Niall doesn’t have to be in such an awkward position, honest.

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have invited Harry,”

Niall rolls his eyes, “Please, the shit I’ve seen and _heard_ Harry do. A bit of kissing’s nothing. And he’ll understand how much I want you, how long I’ve been waiting to get you here,”

Nick mulls it over in his head as Niall starts mouthing at his chest. His breath feels hot and inviting, even through the material of his shirt. And dammit, that’s really why he came here, wasn’t it? He’d been waiting, hoping, for this moment, for an eager Niall to be throwing himself at Nick after weeks of being apart. Really, there wasn’t a good reason for Nick to say no except for Harry’s sleeping body a meter away.

Harry would understand, surely.

“You’ll have to be quiet,” he whispers right into Niall’s ear.

“I can do that, s’long as you give me something to keep me quiet,”

“Oh, hush,” Nick says, too endeared for his own good, before leaning forward to kiss Niall like he’s been dreaming of forever.

There’d been a lot of ways Nick imagined their reunion in his head, whether he was relaxed in the bath or bored between breaks. He sometimes imagined them jumping in the sack immediately, other times there was a dinner involved and a couple glasses of something nice and hard to drink. A few times he’d imagined it in public, at a party or in a restaurant. Those never went that far.

This… this is good. Sitting in Niall’s surprisingly nice flat, with a moderately good movie buzzing on in the background like senseless noise, and the comfort of Niall’s steady hand braced against his chest. Niall’s mouth is as warm and as wicked as he remembers, and the little sounds he sometimes makes when Nick kisses him just right still remain. Nick doesn’t really give a shit about being quiet, if he’s honest.

They’re being slow about the whole thing; lazy kisses, languid tongues, soft caresses down arms that are hardly leading anywhere. He can’t tell if it’s the presence of Harry or how nice Niall feels innocently pressed up against him that stops Nick from reaching his hand any further down than Niall’s ribs. They slowly curl in on each other, their legs tangling where they hang off the edge of sofa. Nick moves to kiss the corners of Niall’s mouth, where they turn up and give Niall the smile that burns through Nick’s mind, when suddenly there’s a flood of light in the previously-dark room.

“Wha?” Nick whines as he opens his eyes to see the overhead lights turned on. He follows Niall’s eyes to where they’re trained on the opposite wall, finally arriving at Harry standing half-naked as ever and looking tired and annoyed at the same time.

“Where’re my joggers, Niall?” he asks, curt.

“Bathroom, ‘s where you left them, ya numpty,”

Harry stalks off through a hallway that Nick hasn’t seen to retrieve his clothes. Nick and Niall stay quiet and keep their hands off each other. Things have been going pretty well so far, both between themselves and with their mutual friendships with Harry. They’d both hate to ruin it with a quick snog.

“You knocked over the hushpuppies,” is all Harry says as he returns to the room with his sweats on and a loose t-shirt hanging over his frame, “Someone knocked it with their foot,”

Nick looks down at the floor by the coffee table, and sure enough the plate’s down there along with a hushpuppy or two and some crumbs. He thinks he would have been able to hear that clatter, but then again Niall _really is_ distracting.

“Listen,” Niall starts as Harry gathers his things to leave, “I’m really sorry that we-”

“I’m not mad,” Harry interrupts, “You just… could have told me to bugger off or at least thrown me in the spare room or something,”

“Like I haven’t seen you do worse!”

“Yes, fair point,” Harry concedes, “But there’re two of you which makes it doubly worse or something. Either way, I’m getting out of here before someone gets their dick out. Nothing wrong with a bit of human anatomy but if I’m not getting an orgasm out of the deal too then why should I stick around?”

“Stop talking!” Niall yells, finally, “Just go home already!”

Harry sends him, or both of them, a two-finger salute before slamming the door, leaving the two of them alone. They spend a few moments staring at each other, wondering what the hell to do next, before Niall leans forward and grabs the plate off the ground.

“I’m gonna finish the washing, if you don’t mind,”

Nick follows him back to the kitchen where he stands at the sink and cleans the remaining dishes. He’ll probably be done in only a few minutes, but that doesn’t stop Nick from getting impatient immediately and plastering himself against Niall’s back. His hands come around to bracket Niall’s waist, his lips moving slowly over the rigid line of Niall’s neck.

“Antsy, are ya?” he asks, his tone light but a little tense.

“We’ve got all night to finish the washing, but I’ve been waiting a long time to get my mouth all over you,”

Niall leans his head back to knock against the side of Nick’s face, “You’re a menace,”

“You’re fit,”

He drops the plate in the sink at that and starts laughing, Nick’s chest moving with Niall’s shoulders.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting all night for you,” Nick continues as he drums his fingers along the small of Niall’s back, “And now I’ve got you all to myself, nowhere else to go, no one to interrupt us. What should we do, hm?”

Niall doesn’t respond for a few moments and Nick lets him think in peace. He gets like this quite a lot, thinking over what he wants to do (what he wants _Nick_ to do) like he won’t want to say the wrong thing. He usually comes up with something great, anyway.

“Could you hold me?”

“I’m already holding you pretty tight, Love, wouldn’t want to squish you,”

“No, I mean,” he turns around so he’s face to face with Nick, “Hold me… up? Like in the air,”

Nick reaches down to squeeze at Niall’s ass, it makes him jump, “Have you been thinking about it a lot?” he asks as he leans down to continue kissing his neck.

“Yeah,” Niall barely breathes out, “All the girls I‘ve been with are too small and I just want… I want to feel small, too,”

That stirs something in Nick’s chest, but he pushes it down quickly. He can’t be thinking when Niall’s got him like this.

“I can try but I can’t promise anything,”

“I don’t care, just try and get me to my bedroom,”

“Niall, I don’t even know where that is!”

He rolls his eyes and pulls back from Nick’s grip, “Look at that corner over there!” he points to an archway on the other wall, “Just continue down that corridor and it’s the last door!”

“You’re acting like it’s _my_ fault that you didn’t give me a full tour like a good host should,”

“Oh, hush,” Niall says finally before grabbing Nick’s hands and placing them around his bum. Nick smiles and counts down from three, Niall jumping just enough so that Nick can grab him and hoist him up to his waist.

Niall’s a growing boy, not a little nymph like he seems to think he is sometimes, but he’s light enough for Nick to at least be able to hold him up. The extra ab workouts he’s been doing at the gym with Aimee are doing wonders, for sure.

“You good?” Niall asks with an eyebrow raise.

“M’fine,” he grits out then starts walking back towards where Niall pointed before. He’s got a good grip on Niall for now, but it’s only going to be a matter of time before _some_ muscle in him gives out and Niall ends up on the floor with a broken kneecap or something.

Niall starts kissing him at his first step, starting on his lips then moving to his cheek and down his neck before he’s mouthing behind Nick’s ear. It’s harder to concentrate with that, and God knows the fact that their dicks are rubbing together is not helping at all either. Nick can’t help it if sometimes he strays a little close to a doorframe or a wall, but Niall doesn’t say anything, just pants louder in his ear.

Nick kicks open the door once they reach it, thanking God that it wasn’t shut or else Niall would’ve been dropped on the spot, and finally makes it to the bed where he drops his passenger off with a _plop_.

“Christ,” he gasps, falling and bracketing Niall on the edge of the bed. It passes off as some kind of sexy move with the way it has Niall lying back and gasping, when really it has more to do with Nick’s muscles quitting.

“That was fucking hot,” Niall breathes out.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Nick starts, punctuating each word with a kiss on the lips, “That was your one chance, nearly killed me back there,”

Niall wraps his legs around Nick’s waist and pulls until they’re flush together, “Worth it,”

It’s great, fucking fantastic really, to have Niall spread out like this. On a bed, no less. Nick’d die if he’d have to do another blowie on a couch.

“What now?” Nick asks, because kissing’s _great_ but he’s excited for a little something more, “Been dying to get my mouth all over you, do you want that? Want me to suck you, maybe lick you out again? Tasted so sweet last time,”

Niall stills and that throws Nick off because he’s always thought Niall liked his dirty talk, or at least didn’t mind it, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to scare him off or make him feel uncomfortable now.

“Hey,” he starts again, bumping his nose against Niall’s cheek, “We don’t have to, if you don’t want. I’m up for whatever,”

Niall turns his head at that, looks Nick straight in the eye, and says (maybe a little too loudly), “I want you to fuck me,”

“Fuck,” Nick moans, dropping his face into Niall’s shoulder. Half because he’s tired, half because he wants to hide the red he’s sure is spreading over his face at Niall’s words.

That’s something he hadn’t really considered. Well, he had, in a few fantasies stored away in a spank bank, but it’s not something he’d actually considered Niall’d want to do. That was probably stupid of him considering they’ve already done pretty much everything else. And now that he’s got Niall under him, begging for him to fuck him, well he’s got to find some confidence buried deep within him so he doesn’t muck it all up.

“You want me to fuck you?” Nick repeats, just as a chance to say something and to make sure Niall’s really into it.

“Yeah, been thinking about it so much. Thought about it the whole time we were on Skype, just like this. Me in my bed, you fit as hell rocking into me. Fuck, Nick, I want it so bad,”

Nick grabs Niall’s shirt from the bottom and lifts it up over his head, smoothing his hand out over Niall’s chest and stomach. He’s missed this, getting to touch whenever he wants. He wants it all now.

“You have everything?” he asks. Niall nods in the direction of a bedside table where Nick finds some slick and the exact condoms that he uses at home – size and brand and all. He wonders if Niall’s been taking notes.

Nick quickly rids himself of his meticulously-chosen shirt and jeans and turns back to find Niall palming himself through his shorts. He just has to laugh, imagining Niall planning this all out. He’s surprised that he didn’t come back to the room decorated with rose petals and electric candles, Kenny G playing lowly in the background.

“What,” Niall whines at Nick’s giggle.

“It’s just ridiculous that you’re still in these,” Nick says, kneeling back on the bed and tugging at the bottom of his shorts. Niall lifts his hips and Nick tugs them off; he’s pantsless underneath. Of fucking course.

“Taking notes from me?” Nick asks and he crawls closer to fit between Niall’s legs.

“Was impatient, didn’t want to wear anything unnecessary,”

“And you want it on your back, then?”

“Yeah,” Niall sighs, wriggling his bum to get into perfect position, “That’s how it always is – in my mind. Probably more boring, but closer, yeah?”

“Nothing boring with you,” Nick quips. It’s probably the tackiest line he’s used on someone in a year, but he swears to God that Niall moans and fattens up a bit. He’ll have to explore Niall’s possible cheesy chat-up line kink at a later date.

Now he just grabs a pillow from the other side of the bed and gets it under Niall’s hips. He fingers Niall open quickly, kisses him gently on the knee, reminds him that they can stop at any time. Niall just nods and wraps his legs around Nick’s waist, digs his heel into Nick’s back, tells him “Fuck me already,”

“Patience,” Nick tisks as he sits back on his haunches and tries to find the condom he’d thrown there before. In his absence, Niall pulls up his legs by his knees, spreading himself even wider than before.

“Hurry up,” Niall moans again. Nick just smirks as he finally gets the condom rolled on.

“If you thought doing that was going to do anything but distract me, you’re wrong,”

He settles himself over Niall, fitting in the space Niall’d made him. Niall wraps his legs around Nick’s back and forces him down even further.

“I swear to god, Nick, if you fucking ask me one more time if I’m ready or to tell you if it hurts, I’m gonna scream. Just do it,”

Nick cracks a smile and leans down for a kiss, guiding himself in as he goes.

Niall’s fucking tight, which Nick thought he would be, but he takes it well. He lets out a puff of breath as Nick pushes in and screws his face up in a grimace. Nick kisses over his eyes and his cheeks as he starts to rock back and forth. He knows it’s an adjustment to make, and Nick’s not one to brag (usually) but he wouldn’t call himself small. Niall just grins and rakes his nails down Nick’s back, until finally _finally_ they get the angle just right, and it sends Niall gasping.

“Fuck!” he shouts out, arms falling down to lie lamely at on the mattress next to him. He alternates between screaming out random words, some of which are expletives, and panting hotly against Nick’s cheek. At times he even cracks a laugh, which does not surprise Nick in the slightest.

After that, Niall’s a mess. He lets go seemingly all at once, throwing his head back and baring his neck so that Nick can sink his teeth into it. Nick moves from panting into Niall’s shoulder to crawling up his body. He slips out of Niall for only a second, but Niall whines at the loss anyway.

“You’re already so needy, aren’t you, love?” Nick coos as he slows his thrusts. Niall looks fucking gorgeous like this: sweaty, flushed, chest heaving with deep breaths, eyes glossed over like he’s half-gone just from a good dicking.

“Nick, fuck, you have to… more,” Niall huffs, looking a bit disgruntled now that Nick’s pulled away.

“I have to what?” Nick asks as he reaches his hand down to jerk Niall off, slowly.

Niall grimaces. “You’re such a fucking tease,”

“I’ve been told that all my life; don’t think I’m stopping now,”

“Fuck me,” Niall grits out.

“What’s that? I’m not doing well enough?”

Niall plants a foot on the bed and starts to contort his body to get more speed, depth, friction out of Nick’s short thrusts.

“Use your words, love, I’m not a mind reader,”

“Fuck me hard, Nick, Christ!”

“Take over for me,” Nick says quickly before hauling Niall’s hips up and fucking into him hard. He had thought—earlier, before, when the idea of fucking Niall was distant and hopeless—that Niall’d want it a little slow. But as he pounds into Niall, holding him around his waist to keep him up, Nick grins. He should’ve known Niall’d be a little more of a freak in the sheets.

Niall gets a hand on himself the moment Nick’s leave his cock, and he comes with a few strangled moans and what Nick swears is a tear in his eye. It only takes a few seconds (of Niall clenching around him, of Niall’s oversensitive whines, of the sight of Niall’s freckles blending slowly into the flush across his cheeks) for Nick to follow him and come, too. He lets Niall’s hips fall to the mattress and pulls out gingerly.

He ties off the condom and drops it over the side of the bed—where he hopes he’ll remember to pick it up before he goes to bed, though knows he won’t—and lies down next to Niall on the bed. Nick rests his head on Niall’s chest and supposes he should make sure Niall’s alright and his feelings are all intact or something, but he gets distracted (quite quickly and easily) by Niall’s pink, pert, peppy nipples, and how badly he wants to get his mouth on them.

“Christ, fucker,” Niall so eloquently yells before grabbing Nick by his hair. Nick can tell by the way Niall’s panting and squirming that he’s sensitive, but he doesn’t push Nick away from biting his nipple red and licking broad stripes over it.

Finally Niall whines and speaks up, “Either get off or pay attention to the other one, will ya?” He sounds fucking wrecked, and Nick wonders how gravelly his voice’d be if he’d gotten his throat fucked beforehand, how absolutely destroyed he’d sound. Maybe later, maybe tomorrow.

He smirks and lets Niall’s left nipple alone so he can straddle Niall’s waist and pay attention to the right one. And he can tell Niall’s getting into it from the stuttered rise and fall of his chest, but too soon for Nick’s liking a shaky hand comes up to push him away.

“Fuck, you’re getting me hard again,” Niall whines as he forces Nick to roll off of him.

Nick rolls his eyes. “Was a little bit of the point, I think,”

Niall shakes his head, “Can’t do it, can’t. I’m fucking knackered and out of my mind at the mo,”

He reaches over to scratch Nick’s head, “Plus, your hair looks like shit after you’ve fucked,”

Nick laughs and reaches up to brush over his quiff, “I think that’s just its natural state, really,”

“Huh,” Niall says as he gets up, delicately, from the bed, “Guess that post-orgasm clarity just made me see the light, then?”

He pads off into an ensuite and Nick follows his pale arse in. They trade turns pissing and cleaning their teeth and wiping themselves down with a flannel. Niall walks back to the bed with a hitch in his step, and Nick follows him, again.

“Sorry about that,” Nick notes as he crawls over Niall to his side of the bed, “Gonna be a bit sore for a few days. No way around it, really,”

Niall shrugs as Nick pulls up the sheets around them, “Could’ve been worse, probably. And it was a nice trade-off, I think,”

“You were brilliant, though,” Nick notes with a sleepy drawl as he pulls Niall into his chest and intertwines their legs together, “Fucking brilliant,”

“I get it, I get it, I’m a sex god. Sleep now, yeah?”

Nick moves his hand up to tweak at a nipple, “You’re also a right tit,”

Niall laughs, and then they fall asleep.

**

It’s later that week, as Niall joins him at a party thrown by people at the station, that Nick realizes it’s different.

He had just mentioned the party in passing, while Niall was shimmying into his jeans and rushing to get home to watch a match with his cousin. Just that Finchy was throwing a party at his flat the next night with some beers and friends. And he felt compelled to invite Niall along for a reason he couldn’t explain, like he would’ve invited anyone else had he been shagging them for a few weeks, so there was no reason to not invite Niall. Except there were a lot of reasons not to, and they must’ve been running through Niall’s head as he paused pulling on his shirt and quirked his head.

“Really?” he said, almost sounding mean with it.

“Why not?” Nick lied to himself as he reclined back on the bed. Again, there were a lot of reasons why not.

“It’s probably a terrible idea,” Niall continued as he pulled his shirt over his head, “Because, like, someone could take a picture or someone could find out or,”

“Yeah, ‘course,”

He rolled over in a cocoon of duvet and smothered his face in a pillow as he thought it over. Niall was toeing on his shoes in the background, and falling over a lot for someone neither drunk nor a toddler, and not adding any more to the conversation.

“But,” Nick continued, finally, “I mean, they’re all people I know and my mates, yeah?”

Niall shrugged.

“So, I mean, if you went it’d just be them who knew. And a lot of your mates already know so I don’t know why mine can’t, too,”

Niall stops and looks serious for what Nick assumes is the first time in his life. He walks slowly over to the bed and sits down on the edge, running his hand through Nick’s hair.

“Are you saying you want me to go with you?”

“I’m just-”

“Nick, don’t bullshit me. Would you rather me go?”

Nick huffs, “Yes,”

“So you want me to go with you to the party?”

“Do I really need to repeat myself, popstar?”

Niall taps Nick’s cheek lightly and sends him a bright smile.

“Just tell me where it is,”

**

Niall’s late, so Nick spends a half hour at the party nearly shitting his pants in nerves. He had talked to Harry before he left so that someone out there would understand his panic, and possibly talk him out of doing something so stupid. Of course, it’s Harry, so instead of offering any of that he just squeals in delight and asks Nick what he’s wearing.

Then, Niall walks through the door with a six-pack of Carlsberg in his hand, and for some reasons that’s what sets Nick at ease. He walks over to Nick with a bright smile on his face, wearing some black and white striped shirt that makes his shoulders look broad, and Nick’s never in his life felt happier to be at one of Finchy’s functions.

“You’re late!”

“Traffic’s an arse!” Niall yells back, attracting the attention of a few people sat nearby.

“Yeah, well, stick the beer in the kitchen and come out to join me. I’ve been feeling a bit lonesome without a fit blonde by my side,”

Niall laughs and goes off in the direction of the kitchen. In his absence, Finchy sidles up to Nick’s side.

“So,” he starts.

Nick rolls his eyes and prepares for it all, “So?”

“You said you had a plus one,”

“Yeah, I did,” He takes a sip of his martini and wishes it was stronger.

“And now Niall’s here, without an invitation, and he pops right on over to you the second he’s through the threshold,”

“I think…” he taps his chin with a free finger, “Yes, I think that’s how that went,”

“So is he, you know?” Finchy bites his forearm.

“Yeah, something like that,”

“So, a boyfriend? A booty call?”

“Something like that,”

Finchy shakes his head and gives Nick a Look unlike any other.

“I’m guessing you’d like a no picture policy, then?”

“I think it’s probably for the best. Everyone here’s good, yeah?”

Finchy nods, “I think so. Most of them are your mates, and the ones that aren’t have more to lose than gain by selling the story. You and Niall should be happy to be whatever it is you want to be for the night, if you want,”

“Thanks, Finchy,” Nick gives him a smile – a rare one, a nice one, one that isn’t laced with sarcasm or spite, “More for Niall than me,”

“By the way, would you so mind if I asked for a selfie with your boyfriend?”

Nick moves to protest (over the selfie or the ‘boyfriend’, he can’t tell) but then Niall comes back, and he doesn’t say anything.

**

The party goes better than expected, which wasn’t hard considering how nervous Nick had been, but in all reality Nick has the fucking time of his life with Niall by his side. All of his friends love Niall, as if they didn’t already, and he loves them all back. Aimee, in particular, steals him away for at least thirty minutes to sit down with him on a sofa in the back and do whatever the hell she wants with him. Which mostly consists of drinking beer and mild flirting (on the part of Aimee) and severe laughing (on the part of Niall). Nick finds himself having to drag Niall away so that they can, finally, spend some proper time together.

“You getting jealous?” Niall asks, a little slurred and very giggly.

Nick winds an arm around his waist and tugs him closer to his side, “Not jealous, just lonely,”

“You’re always lonely,” Niall pouts, “How do I fix that?”

“How about a kiss?”

“Oh?” Niall’s eyebrows furrow, “Can we do that here?”

“No one’s gonna say anything,” Nick reassures him, bending down to kiss the crown of his head.

“Okay,” Niall says easily. Nick wraps his arms around his shoulders, hugging him closer and kissing him hard. It’s been a long night, he deserves a good snog.

They end up sat in an armchair that’s a tad too small for the two of them, attached at the lips, and they don’t even realize how much time has passed until Nick breaks away and finds that half the party’s left.

“It’s late,” Nick pouts, “We have to go,”

“Do we? We can’t just stay over?”

“No offense, love, but I think the likelihood of Finchy offering us a spot on his couch would be as close to zero as we could get,”

Niall pulls him off the chair, “What? Like we’d do something?”

“Please, you’ve got the self-control of a toddler,”

Nick steals himself away to call them a car because Niall got driven there by his cousin and they sure as hell aren’t leaving separately. And when he returns, Niall is leaning against the wall by the door with a large grin across his face.

“What’re you so merry about? Happy to finally get a selfie with Fincham?”

Niall shakes his head, “I’m just glad I got to meet all your friends, and I’m extra glad that they like me,”

Nick cups Niall’s chin between his fingers and leans in to give him another swift kiss.

“That is why you wanted me to come, right?” he continues, “To show me off to all your friends?”

“Eh,” Nick shrugs, “It’s more like… you know, we’ve only hung out at your house or my flat or your hotel room. Nowhere out in public or with other people around. It kind of felt nice to feel normal for once. And, like, we’re not in such a fucked-up situation,”

Niall stills and shrugs to the left, “I guess that, too,”

**

Some days before Niall has to leave for the American leg of the tour, he mentions that he’d like to celebrate Nick’s birthday with him.

Sometime afterwards, Nick buys the ticket.

Some way, somehow, Nick manages to fuck it all up.

**

They say goodbye quickly at Nick’s place. Niall’s supposed to fly in with the rest of them and there’s no time for changing tickets or late popstars. It’s only going to be a few days before Nick flies in (quietly, discreetly) and they’ve done the whole distance thing before for a longer stretch of time and a longer distance, but for some reason this feels worse and more real. When Niall leaves out the door, driven to Heathrow by Mario himself, Nick hugs Pig a little closer and goes to find the ice cream.

It’s always in the back of Nick’s mind, though, that things can’t be as good as they seem. Which is probably the most Nick thing he could ever do, even more Nick than buying a part-time, long-distance “fling” a dildo.

It’s just. Sometimes Nick feels like he has more invested in the relationship than Niall, more emotions and more time and more effort. It probably has something to do with the age difference and the celebrity difference, but at times it’s felt like Niall thinks of him as just a _man_. Someone for Niall to figure out his sexuality with before moving on to someone younger, better looking, fitter, closer.

Niall’s not a bad person, and Nick knows it, but it wouldn’t be the first time emotions got a little lost in translation. He supposes at twenty he wouldn’t want to tie himself down to some aging radio personality stuck a thousand miles away. And he supposes if there had been someone there for him to trust and start exploring sex and all the good things that come with it, he would’ve partnered up to them real quick.

It’s just different, he guesses, that he’s falling for someone who’s leaving him in the dust. Usually he’s the one to bow out early, the one that has to pat the other guy on the back saying “We can still be friends, right?” He’s dreading getting to America, dreading seeing Niall living his life without him, and dreading getting that back pat.

**

He flies into Philly nonstop and meets members of the 1D Security Team at the airport. His new codename is “Grim and Bear It,” and he swears he’s not going to let this one slide.

America’s always been good to him. New York’s always kept him awake, and Miami’s always let him sleep. Los Angeles has always been there to indulge the fame-seeking side of him, and in-between are states upon states that he’s glad he’s never going to have to visit. Philadelphia, though, is a new variable, unlike any other place he’s been. He doesn’t even know if he can spell Pennsylvania, for fuck’s sake.

They’re staying in a posh hotel, because of course they are. Outside is a swarm of screaming fans, because of course there is. And he’s rushed through the hotel so that no one can see him, because of course. Still, after all the tiresome traveling and all the worrying, he only has to knock on Niall’s door once before it’s swung open and Niall’s kissing him hard. He has to push them inside because he’s not come all this way in secrecy just for Niall to ruin it by not being able to keep it in his pants. It’d be fitting, in a way, but annoying all the same.

“Yes, hello, Niall,” Nick says between pecks, “Wonderful to see you again, as well. How’ve ya been?”

“You’re such a wanker,” Niall says back.

“Ah, yes, I think that’s the point,”

Niall doesn’t reply, just pushes Nick back through the room with hands on his stomach, until the backs of Nick’s legs hit the bed and they fall together on top of it.

“How long do I got with you until some handlers or beefy security men whisk you away?” Nick asks as he sweeps a thumb over Niall’s cheek. He smiles and a dimple forms there, so Nick takes the chance to lean in and kiss it before Niall can speak.

“About twenty minutes. They’re doing a meet and greet thing with kids from a hospital. But after that I’m yours until the show,”

Nick grins and pushes Niall onto his back so he crouch over him and smile dumbly down.

“I think that’s enough time, don’t you think?”

He reaches down and undoes the button Niall’s jeans, followed by his flies. His cock is already half-hard in his little black briefs, and Nick wants to taste it so bad.

“Pretty confident in your skills, eh?” Niall says with a strained smile on his face. He looks like he could come at any moment, and oh, does Nick want him to.

“I’ve never been wrong before,” Nick quips finally before leaning down and opening his mouth.

**

Nick’s right in that it barely takes any time at all for Niall to come, and there’s even time left for Nick to come on Niall’s stomach and wash it off with a flannel. And Niall’s right that just as all the cum is washed off his skin, a giant man with a too-tight tshirt comes and asks for him. The man (named after some sort of herb) doesn’t even blink at Nick, just grabs Niall and leads him out the door.

Nick takes the chance to have a kip because he’s been exhausted since he touched American soil, and the only thing that had given him any energy was the promise of an orgasm. Now that he’s already had it, he can barely keep his eyes open.

What he doesn’t realize is how long and hard he can sleep, and he is promptly awoken two hours later by a fidgety Niall in his lap.

“Why do you have to bother me, hm?” Nick whispers, his voice still a little froggy from the sleep and blowjob.

“Just ordered lunch for us from room service,”

“And is it here yet?”

“No, but I’d rather like to snog you before it comes,”

“Acceptable, I guess,” Nick supplies, then laughs, then pulls Niall forward so he can lick into his mouth.

The food seems to take forever, but Nick doesn’t mind one bit. He cherishes hugging Niall close to him, feeling Niall curl up even smaller on top of Nick’s chest. It feels so nice, for once, to be holed up in a plain hotel room, the temperature a bit too warm, Niall a bit too sweaty, but wanting nothing to change.

And then, of course, there’s a knock at the door.

“Finally,” Niall says as he pulls away, “I’m fucking starving,”

“Am I not good enough for you!” Nick calls out, but quickly hides under the covers. If the delivery boy decides to step in he doesn’t want his first sight to be Nick in a messy bed with freshly-bitten lips.

After a few seconds he peeks his eyes over the tops of the covers, and instead of finding a suited-up hotel worker, he just finds Harry wearing a flowy shirt with only two buttons done.

“This hotel’s got some ugly looking staff, haven’t they?” he says with a snide smile on his lips.

“Nick!” Harry screeches, before pouncing on top of him like they didn’t just see each other ten days ago. He hugs him and gives him a peck on the cheek, and it’s nice, at least for Nick, to realize that they are big differences between how Harry and Niall make him feel. How he shoves Harry off after a matter of seconds, but would have invited Niall to be with him there all day.

And at the same time, he’s scared shitless. He just won’t think about it.

**

The day plays out like a fucking dream.

The three of them stuff their faces full of room service hamburgers and chocolate cake before settling back and watching a documentary on sea animal rescues Harry had found the night before. Harry, like always, falls asleep before they even get to the sea manatees, but Nick fights to stay awake, and it has nothing to do with watching the little baby sea turtles find their way into the ocean. Well, it _mostly_ doesn’t have to do with that. Really he just likes to sit next to Niall, to breathe him in, to loop an arm around his back and feel him snuggle closer to his side. He likes looking like a couple, _feeling_ like a couple.

But then Niall has to leave, because Niall always has to leave. Harry and Niall both skip off to their next adventure while Nick’s stuck in the hotel room, a window cracked so he can at least feel like he can leave and touch fresh air. Niall leaves him with a peck and the promise that there’ll be more to do at night, but all it leaves is Nick feeling empty and lonely.

He understands, he really does. He knows that he can’t go to the show because it’d be impossible to hide him and getting caught would cause a frenzy in a number of ways. The entire British tabloid population is already surprised out of their mind that he’s not spending his birthday in Ibiza like normal, and if they found out that instead he’s spending it in Philadelphia (of all fucking places) with One Direction, he’s sure half the island would lose their heads.

But it’s really not quite fair to Nick, in many ways, but especially one. That Nick is the one that has to fly to Milan, that Nick is the one who has to sneak around while he’s happily open about being gay, that Nick’s the one who has to hide in hotel rooms watching shitty romantic comedies that even Harry would scoff at. That Niall gets to continue on with his life, having fun like Nick _should_ be, and still get to come home to someone who’ll fuck him.

Whenever he’s around Niall he’s happy and content with whatever he’s doing, but when he’s alone it all comes crashing down to him. And, well, unfortunately he’s been a little more alone than usual lately. It’s certainly not helping any.

So he spends a few hours by ordering a curry from the kitchen and a Riesling to go with it, and does a horrible job of not thinking about it.

**

Nick falls in and out of sleep for an hour before Niall comes bounding into the room, an impossible amount of energy following him in.

“Honey, I’m home!” he yells as he kicks the door shut behind him. Nick jolts awake with a groan, rubbing his eyes furiously to knock the sleep out of them.

“How was the show?” Nick asks back, with a yawn.

“You don’t really care about the show, do you?”

“Eh,” is all Nick can manage, the jetlag completely overwhelming him.

Niall lets him come to slowly, choosing to snuggle behind him and hug him around his waist instead of just jumping onto him, as he is prone to do. And it feels nice, even if just for a few minutes, to feel Niall’s knuckles brushing slowly in circles against his side, and to feel his short puffs of breath against the hair that’s grown long at the back of his neck. He closes his eyes and imagines a life like this, slow and quiet, that Niall can never have. Finally, Nick gets out of his own head and turns to face Niall.

“What’s the plan for tonight, then, hm? Been thinking about it on stage, in front of all those people? What’d we do behind closed doors?”

Niall smiles so wide it crinkles his nose, “Wait, I have something,”

He bounds off the bed and starts rummaging around in one of his bags in the corner.

“Oh, dear God, if we’re continuing the tradition of gifting sex toys during international booty calls I will-”

“Nooo!” Niall whines as he finally comes back with a piece of paper in his hand, and Nick’s at least 98% sure it’s not meant to be used in any sex act.

“Let me see that, then,” he says and grabs it from Niall’s hands.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. In all reality, he thought he’d find a sheet of love sonnets before a list detailing every sex act Niall’d like to do with Nick. It’s a pretty interesting list, really. A few fun things, a few odd things, a few things Nick’s sure Niall has only seen in pornos.

And the thing is that in any normal circumstances Nick’d love this; he’d probably find it hysterical, in fact, and immediately tackle whoever gave it to him. But right now, when he’s gasping for air and reaching out for Niall to take his hand and tell him that he _loves_ him more than _wants_ him, the last thing he needs is this.

“What do you want to do first?” Niall asks, and Nick’s snapped back to reality, “I thought you could choose, or if you have an idea, I don’t know. These are just things… I’ve been thinking about. I thought we could try them,”

Nick stares down at the paper, stares down at the list that Niall hasn’t stopped thinking about, and starts thinking about all the things he’d rather do instead.

“Nick?” Niall says quietly after he hasn’t answered in a while, “Did you hear me?”

 He snaps back to and moves to say something logical, but there’s a tightness in his stomach and a dryness in his throat and all he seems to get out is “…I’m sorry,”

“Sorry about what? Nick we don’t-”

“I can’t do this anymore,”

“We don’t have to tonight, we can-”

“Niall…”

“What, Nick, what’s wrong? You’re not saying anything!”

Nick gets up from the bed and looks down at Niall, still perched on his knees and so young.

“We’re at different places,”

“I don’t understand…”

“You’re young, and you’re having fun all over the world and you’re just figuring out what you like to do. And that’s fine! That’s great! I think you should have all the time in the world to make yourself feel comfortable,”

“I’m feeling pretty damn comfortable as it is. Nick, what-”

“I can’t just… I can’t just be an exploration point. I can’t just be someone you’re with because it’s easy and because you know I won’t tell. I can’t just be who was _there_ ,”

“What are you talking about! How has anything I’ve done led you to believe all I want is to have sex with you, that I only want you because you’re willing?”

“I don’t know,” Nick shakes his head and his face falls, “I’ve just always felt like we were having fun, but we couldn’t move past it. And you just kept on wanting to explore more, but never get to know each other and-”

Before Nick can finish Niall is off the bed and rooting around his things. It catches him by surprise and he takes a few moments to just watch Niall scurry back and forth, throwing things into a small drawstring bag.

“What are you doing?” Nick says lowly, suddenly feelings small.

“I’m fucking leaving,” he grits out, without even turning to look Nick in the face.

“I don’t want you to go,”

“Yes you do, Nick!” Niall yells as he finally turns around to stare him down, “Yes you do! You came all the way here just to break up with me, so I’m not just gonna stay in the same room as you and pretend it’s all fine when it’s actually all shit!”

Niall turns back to what he was doing and Nick feels like he should, feels like he _want to_ say something, but nothing is matching up to the storm that’s brewing in his head.

“I just don’t get it!” Niall says after his bag seems to be done and he’s hunched over with his hands planted firmly on the dresser, “What about my actions, my words, have made you feel like I wasn’t invested in this!”

“Well, Harry said-”

“I didn’t _ask_ what Harry said. I’m talking about me! Me, who invited you to my house and made you hushpuppies _from scratch_ because you like them. And we watched _Almost Famous_ because you told me last year that it’s your favorite date movie. And I went to Finchy’s party because I wanted to meet your friends and because I trusted you and your faith in them. And I kept on having sex with you, trying all these new things because _you_ made them seem worth it, and I trusted you to not only keep it a secret but to take care of me and to make sure I was good. I didn’t just want to be with someone, you idiot, I wanted to be with _you_ ,”

Niall grabs his bag and pushes past Nick without even giving him a chance to reply. Before he can open the door, his hand frozen on it like he can’t even move, he huffs and turn around to face Nick one last time.

“You created an out for yourself, Nick. So fucking take it,”

**

In the two minutes after Niall leaves, Nick sits on the bed of a foreign hotel room in a pair of jorts and an Icona Pop tshirt, and hates himself. He hates how he’s possibly the world’s worst human, how he can’t even make himself happy in life, and how he did the impossible: made sunshine Niall Horan mad.

He decides, then, that he’s probably not the world’s person, rather he’s a commitmentphobe with a track record of speaking out of his ass, and that this is nothing a good shower can’t fix. He hasn’t bathed since landing in America, and it’ll do him some good.

Of course, once he starts to relax and unwind under the steady stream of the shower he begins to cry, but that’s neither here nor there.

He walks briskly to Harry’s room at the end of the hall, with his hair still wet in a messy flop at the top of his head. Only a few seconds after knocking, Harry answers the door in a flurry.

“Niall, why did… oh,”

His face falls and Nick pushes past him so he can get out of the hallway.

“Why did you think I would be Niall?” he says too quickly that it all falls out of his mouth in a crumble.

“No reason,”

“There was a reason, Styles, now spill,”

Harry shakes his head.

“I’ll twist your nipples I swear to-”

“Alright!” he throws his hands up in a truce, “He was in here not even three minutes ago,”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” he says, his eyes open with honesty, “But if I had to use some contextual clues I’d say it had something to do with you,”

“Maybe,” Nick whispers, because Harry will be mad at him if he tells his what he did. Just like all the other times Nick’s told Harry how he fucked up relationships.

“He stormed in like twenty minutes ago and then spent ten minutes sitting on that chair over there,” he points to one by the window, where Niall’s hat still lays, “And then he yelled at me to stay out of his business, and that I never know what I’m talking about, but he never really explained anything. Then he left,”

“Oh,”

“Care to explain for him?”

Nick takes a deep breath, plants his feet on the ground, lies back on the bed, and begins.

“I started to feel different starting a few days ago,”

“Different how?”

“Like… Niall and me weren’t on the same page,”

“What page were you on?” Harry says quietly, already stuck in stereotypical _Harry_ mode. He sits by Nick’s head and starts to run his fingers through Nick’s drying hair.

“I was on a page where I couldn’t stop thinking about him and I wanted to spend time with him so badly that I cancelled my birthday trip to Ibiza so that I could spend it locked in a hotel room with him,”

“And what page did you think he was on?”

“The one where he would leave me once he got used to the idea of being with a guy,”

“Oh, Nick,” Harry whispers, “You’re so fucking stupid,”

He sends a swift backhand to Nick’s cheek, and honestly, he deserves it.

“Why in the world would you think Niall is anything but madly, crazy in love with you?”

Nick ignores the L word and closes his eyes, “Because you said that I was the first guy he ever thought of like… _that_ , you know. So I thought it meant he just hadn’t found the right one yet, but he found me, and I was good enough,”

Harry stops fingering his hair and starts scratching at his scalp, and Nick honestly wishes he would stop if only so he could feel like he royally fucked up the right amount.

“Why in the world would you listen to something I said piss-ass drunk, rather than look at everything that Niall has done and realize that he had no ideas of going anywhere?”

“The part of me that doesn’t let me have nice things,”

“Let yourself have Niall,” Harry says so quietly that Nick can barely hear it, “He’s better than nice. He’s funny, caring, sexy, and accepts all the shit parts of you. I don’t know when you’re gonna find better,”

Nick sits up so fast that all the blood rushes out of his head and he hits his skull against Harry’s hand.

“How do I fix this?” he says quickly, “I fucked up, I get it, but I can fix it, right?”

Harry shrugs, “Niall was really pissed, but Niall also _really_ likes you, and he’s not really one to hold a grudge,”

“Where is he? Where did he go after he left?”

“Don’t go chasing after him, Nick!” Harry says quickly as Nick starts to head for the door, “Give him some space, he’s probably still really heated!”

Nick nods and opens the door, thinking of all the things he can possibly say at once.

“But,” Harry stops him, “at a later point, if you wanted to see him, my bet would be on Louis’s room,”

**

Nick likes the idea of giving Niall space, and he likes the idea of clearing his head before having another one of his great talks, so he tries to go to sleep. But, in such a fun chance of luck, his mind keeps running faster and faster and he can’t slow it down to the point of sleeping. Instead, he runs through everything he said to Niall, and imagines punching himself in the face for being so stupid.

He calls Aimee, because she always has the right thing to say, plus she’s looking after Pig and that’s always a nice distraction. And luckily, in the first thing that’s gone right all day, she answers.

“What the fuck did you do?” she says immediately after she’s answered. No hellos, no nothing.

“What makes you think I mucked something up?”

“Because you woke me up at bloody 5 o’clock in the morning, that’s why!”

He hears the click of a lamp and someone grumbling from the other line, and he imagines Ian shoving his head under a duvet. And then he remembers that there’s a time difference between them now.

“Right, yeah, sorry. Anyways, I might have mucked something up,” he mumbles, even though he’s had this same conversation with her a thousand times, and he always knows how it goes.

“What did you do, Nicky?”

So he explains it all. He explains how good Niall’s helped him feel lately, and how the only thing that’s really made him feel bad at all is his own imagination. It’s nothing Aimee’s not heard before.

“So you love him?” she says after he’s finished.

Nick winces, “Don’t say that,”

“It’s not the word, love, it’s everything else you’re saying,”

“I just really like him,”

“You really liked him a month ago. You’re telling me nothing has changed?”

Nick sits on his hands and thinks it over for a second, “I need to fix it,”

“You need to sort yourself out,”

“I’m sorted, Aims. I was a big shit and I want to fix it now. I know what I want, and it’s Niall for however long he’ll keep me,”

Her voice softens, “Oh, Nick, don’t say it like that. Stop putting end dates on things that’ve barely started yet,”

“Just tell me what to do. You’re much better at this,”

“Well, for starters, you don’t need some big, old thing to sweeten him up-”

And then Nick stops listening, because yes he does.

**

Nick waits until the nice, early time of 7:30 to walk over to Louis’s room and bang loudly on the door. It’s a consolation prize, really, that Nick gets to piss him off while making it up to Niall.

“The fuck is your problem?” Louis spits out as he opens the door. He’s only in his pants and is wearing one sock. Nick’ll make fun of him later.

“I need to speak to Niall,”

“And you think he’s here because?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Louis, I can see his vest from here,”

He pushes past Louis in the doorway and makes for the sofa, where Niall’s passed out nicely with his tongue sticking out.

“Hey, Niall,” Nick tries, shaking Niall’s shoulder lightly, “Get up, we need to go,”

Niall blinks awake slowly and actually looks rather cute for a second, until his eyes settle on Nick and he looks furious.

“What are you doing?” he asks, about as meanly as he can manage.

Nick stands and tries to pull Niall’s arm with him, “Get up, get changed, we’re going,”

“Fuck, Nick, I don’t need to accompany you to the airport. If you’re gonna leave, just leave,”

“It’s not the airport, dummy. Just get dressed and I’ll show you,”

Nick leads him out the room and Niall follows, a few steps behind and with the slowness of an early day dragging him down. Just as he gets to the hall he hears Louis annoyingly rasp out, “What are you two fucking idiots doing?”

The scary thing is Nick barely knows.

**

Niall showers, brushes his teeth, and changes in ten minutes. Nick’s as impressed as he is relieved that they won’t be late. They find Niall’s security team at the end of the hallway and they’re swiftly rushed out of the building and into a waiting black SUV. The team had been willing, if not a little eager, to do something special for Niall, so they didn’t mind too much being woken up at half-past-arse in the morning by Nick’s whining phone call. And just an hour afterwards, they called back to say that the plan had been set in motion. Now all that was left to do was wait.

The two of them get shoved in the back seat and the car races through morning traffic to get to Center City. Niall spends the entire time with shades placed carefully over his eyes, looking out the window as the metropolitan streets pass by. It’s not until they’re almost there that Nick finally decides to speak up.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Niall says nothing back.

“I’m a twat,” he says.

Again, nothing.

“And I’m gonna make up for being a twat, and show you how sorry I am, with this,”

Finally, Niall turns to look at him and whispers, “Okay,”

They stop behind an unassuming building and Nick leaves the door open for Niall to get out. They’re greeted by a nice woman in uniform, someone who’s surely been forced to sign an NDA along the way. She leads them through a back door, through some plain hallways, until Nick sees some queueing area ahead and knows they’re close.

“I brought you here to show you I care,” he whispers to Niall, head dipped low so their faces almost touch, “I care, and I listen, and I’m not planning on leaving yet,”

“Okay,” Niall says back, and then they’re walking through the door and into an auditorium with a white dome overhead.

“What is this?” he says quickly, it all coming out in one jumbled breath.

“You’ve never been to a planetarium before?” Nick asks.

“Nick,” is all Niall says before he reaches down and grabs Nick’s hand, squeezes extra tight, and leads him towards a pair of seats in the middle.

They’re alone—blessedly, beautifully alone—and as the workers leaves them alone with a courteous smile, Nick allows himself a moment to be happy for once. He’s a lucky guy and he’s gotten quite a lot in his short life: the job he’s been working for since he was young, the flat of his dreams, friends that he could’ve never even dreamed of in third grade when no one would play four square with him. But he’s been shit at second chances. For the amount that he messes up his own good fortune, he hasn’t found a way to ever give it another try.

Except for Niall. Niall, who smells like sleep and has his hair all soft and lazy. Niall with the biggest smile on his face in anticipation of seeing some stars, whose knees shake with the energy he’s yet to burn through the day. Niall, who gives second chances.

The lights dim and a prerecorded spiel starts about not talking on phones and keeping lights low and the whatnots. It’s falling on deaf ears as Nick and Niall are the only people in the room, besides some security guards who are perfectly sat at the last row. Nick’d never dream of ruining this for Niall, and Niall already shut off his phone five minutes prior.

And then music starts, loud and exciting, like something that leads on a new adventure. The earth comes into view, in all its stunning glory, and Nick spares a look at Niall’s face—absolutely enthralled with what’s happening. Nick’s happy enough to spend however long they’ve got just next to Niall, their shoulders pressed together in the solitude of the room. Except then Niall’s learning into him, resting their heads together, and Nick moves his arm to hug Niall closer by the shoulder, with no intention of letting go.

And, yeah, that’s better.


End file.
